


The Arraignment

by Calminaiel



Series: Foundations [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Anal Fingering, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Blow Jobs, Dark Mark, Established Relationship, HP: EWE, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-War, Redeemed Draco, Rimming, Vampire Draco Malfoy, Vampire Sex, WIP, light fluff, vampire!Draco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-28 04:39:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10072136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calminaiel/pseuds/Calminaiel
Summary: (Sequel to An Arrangement)Draco and Harry have their lives figured out, but, predictably,  fate has other plans.





	1. Amicus Brief

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to An Arrangement. Hope you enjoy it! As always, i appreciate feedback! xx

“Harry, are you down there?” Draco paused, listening intently with one foot on the stairs. “You’d better not still be here, Potter!” he called, louder this time. “The Minister is expecting you in half an hour! Unless you’re planning to apparate right into her office…”

“I’m just leaving! Merlin, Draco!” Harry’s voice drifted up the stairs and Draco sighed in exasperation. _He’ll be late._ Below he heard the door slam shut, _he’s not even using the floo network?_ Draco briefly considered going after him for a proper scolding, but thought better of it. _None of my concern. Though I’ll get an earful the next time I see Hermione, I’m sure._

Draco stood at the landing and weighed his options. On one hand he had the day off work and, as he’d just gotten through with a week of nights, he had had quite enough of St. Mungo’s for this week. On the other hand, he had a good deal of paperwork to do and it was beginning to pile up. He supposed he should go in for a few hours at least, just to stay on top of it. Otherwise he’d be forced to bring it all home at the weekend. _My first proper weekend off in months_.

He turned on his heel and changed out of his dressing gown into a pair of sleek black robes. He knew he’d be roped into putting in extra hours if he were to show up in his Healer robes. Fully dressed, he fussed with his hair for a few moments. He was growing it out, just a bit. He didn’t fancy looking like his father, but he’d always wanted it long enough to wear in a low ponytail. He smoothed his hand down the length, running the brush through his platinum hair. He often thought about what it said about him that one of the things he missed most, more than food or drinks (although he occasionally found himself desperately missing iced pumpkin juice), more than being able to go anywhere he wanted, uninvited, and certainly more than his mortality, was his reflection. Harry’d noticed that Draco’s nonchalant front when he found himself in front of a mirror was a facade. Draco didn’t know exactly when Harry had figured out that he missed being able to see himself, but one day he’d realized that Harry had taken it upon himself to describe Draco’s appearance to him each morning. He was subtle about it, but he’d make a comment about how he thought Draco’s hair was sitting nicely, or how the robes fit him well, or he’d brush an eyelash from Draco’s cheek mid-kiss, telling him that his skin was beautiful. Draco recognized it for what it was, it was Harry trying to give Draco a tiny sliver of what he’d been denied, a normal life. _He’s too good for me._ He set down his brush and smoothed his hands over his hair to ensure it wasn’t tangled awkwardly anywhere before sitting on the edge of their bed as he buckled his boots, _just for an hour or two. I won’t stay longer than that._

It was three hours before Draco finally stole away from the Hospital. He knew Harry would want to do something together as a celebration of Draco’s night off. _Probably in London._ Draco didn’t mind going into the muggle city as much anymore. He’d finally found a shop on Kingly street in Soho that sold clothes whose price made Harry blanche, but which suited Draco’s tastes perfectly. He thought vaguely about paying them a visit, but shook off the idea. _You have plenty of clothes. You certainly don’t need any more muggle suits._ He queued up the apparation point, nodding politely to coworkers who were bustling about, either just off their shifts or about to begin.

“Alright Draco?” A tall witch with a short, hip haircut called out to him. He nodded and gave her a wave. She was one of the healers up on the fourth floor. Draco knew she was a genius when it came to hexes. He had heard that she was from somewhere in the east of England and had put her fair share of hexes on people before the Ministry caught up with her. Draco had his suspicions about that story, but he was hardly going to ask her about it, not when that would open him up for uncomfortable questions about his own past.

Appearing suddenly in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, he saw both Harry and Ron sitting on the far end of the table, with mugs of tea in front of them.

“Draco!” Harry leapt to his feet and gave Draco a quick kiss. “You went in to work, didn’t you?”

Ron was shaking his head and Draco shrugged, “Just for a few hours to get some paperwork sorted.”

“I dunno, mate.” Ron offered as Harry resumed his seat, “I think anyone mental enough to go in to work on their day off…” but Draco never learned what Ron thought about that, as the fireplace gave a whoosh and Hermione stepped out of the flames a moment later.

“Honestly, have you two just been sitting here?” Hermione asked with an exasperated look at Harry and her husband.

“No!” Ron said, indignantly. “We were-”, but he trailed off as he noticed that Harry was nodding.

Draco gave a snort of laughter and Hermione seemed to notice him for the first time, “Draco!” She hurried over and gave him a quick hug, which he returned warmly. “How are you? Are they working you terribly hard?”

“You’re one to talk!” he said with a laugh, “What was your meeting with Harry about this morning?”

“Meeting?” Ron looked from one to the other with confusion, “When did you have a meeting?”

“This morning, Ron.” Hermione said, matter-of-factly. “Should I be clearing my meetings with you?”

“C’mon, Hermione.” Ron said with a sigh, “I just didn’t remember hearing about it, that’s all.”

Harry gave her a weak smile and she let her shoulders relax, “I’m sorry, Ron. Today has been just one mad thing after another.” Draco pulled a chair out for her and hurried around the table to fetch a clean mug. “Cheers, Draco!” she said, as he tapped the kettle with his wand.

“Do I count as a mad thing?” Harry asked cheekily and Hermione laughed, “No,” She sighed, “There’s been some trouble with the Moroccan delegation that’s due to arrive next week.”

“What kind of trouble?” Ron asked quickly.

“Oh, the usual. They’re unhappy with the lodgings that we’ve arranged. They’d really rather stay in London, in a muggle hotel.”

“Why?” Ron’s voice was incredulous. He, like Draco, still hadn’t quite gotten over that pure-blood fear of muggle-only spaces.

“Well it’s not as accepted there, is it? Magic.” Hermione sighed, “They’ve got a decent sized community to be sure, but they don’t isolate themselves from the muggles, they just hide it most of the time.” She shook her head, “They’ve gotten used to the muggle amenities and honestly, if you’ve become accustomed to having a hairdryer, why bother learning the spell?”

Draco nodded thoughtfully. “So they’re not used to being free with their magic like we are?”

She gave him a look, “I think if you spoke to them they’d insist they’re much freer than us. We have to constantly be on guard when we leave our safe bubble. They live their whole lives in plain view of muggles, so all of their magic has to really be quite clever.” She looked genuinely impressed and Draco was once again reminded how much he liked Hermione, talking about these witches and wizards she hadn’t even met yet with the utmost respect, “They’re quite adept at wandless magic. It’s very impressive.”

“But that would be awfully risky for the ministry, wouldn’t it? Letting them have accommodations in London?” Harry shook his head as he spoke and Draco knew he was right. The Ministry couldn’t allow them to just wander around muggle London, especially on their first visit.

“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” Hermione sighed, “We’re trying to convince them that it’s nothing personal, but we have very few systems in place to contain a muggle-involved incident, should one occur. I told Kingsley a dozen times, we ought to place ministry officials in the Muggle police force.”

“Who would want that job?” Ron scoffed, “Sounds like you’d be right bored!”

“I think it would be fascinating for some.” Hermione shot him a glare, “Imagine if we offered that job to your father?”

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t want a nutter like dad.” Ron said with confidence.

“Well, no…” Hermione conceded sheepishly, “Arthur probably wouldn’t be able to blend in the way we’d like, but I think I may propose something about it soon. It just seems like good common sense. We had similar things during the war, it’s about security for the muggles as much as anyone.”

Draco poured her a cup of tea and sank into the chair beside Harry, who began stroking his hair absentmindedly.

“I’ve meant to say, Draco, your hair is looking really nice! I like it longer.” Hermione said with a smile. Draco briefly wondered if Harry had asked her to compliment his appearance as well, but decided he didn’t care either way.

“Thank you, Hermione.”

“He’s worried it’ll make him look like his father,” Harry volunteered, “but I’ve told him he’s far too handsome to ever be mistaken for his father.”

Draco nudged Harry, but he couldn’t help the smile that played across his lips.

“That’s certainly true,” Hermione confirmed, matter-of-factly.

“Well, do we have any plans tonight?” Draco said, rolling his eyes as though he’d be able to fool anyone into believing that he wasn’t loving all the attention.

“Yeah, Harry said you have the night off!” Ron piped up, glad they’d moved on from discussing Draco’s appearance.

“I do.” He smiled again, “Also the whole weekend. But I do have to go in tomorrow.”

“Remind me to make sure you don’t get too pissed tonight,” Harry tousled Draco’s hair before he could stop him, “you won’t be any good to them at hospital if you’re hungover.”

“You’re hilarious.” he said with a glare as he smoothed down his hair once more, leaning out of Harry’s reach. “If you’re not careful I _might_ just have a drink or two tonight.”

Hermione giggled and Draco gave her an appreciative smile, not missing Ron’s nervous expression out of the corner of his eye.

“We could go to the pig again.” Ron suggested.

Hermione looked at him, confused, “I’m sorry, _the pig?”_

“Oh yeah!” Harry finished his tea and sent the mug flying toward the sink. “She wasn’t there when we went last time!”

“Oh right,” Ron nodded, “It’s near Soho Square.”

“When did you go to this one, then?” Hermione said with a resigned expression. She didn’t like to be reminded that she had been missing their nights out with higher frequency since she’d become Minister for Magic.

“Can’t have been more than a fortnight ago,” Draco offered gently, “They quite liked the drinks, Ron even got something other than a pint.”

“You’re joking!” Hermione gasped in mock disbelief.

“Not at all. The bartender talked him into some strange pickle drink…” Draco wrinkled his nose and Hermione laughed.

“Now I know you’re joking.” She laughed.

“He’s not.” Ron said, “It wasn’t too bad. Came with a pickle garnish, even.”

With that, it was decided. Ron was made to promise that he’d have another bizarre cocktail and Hermione was still indignant that it was called The Blind Pig, even after Draco reminded her of the name of their alma mater. (“It’s completely different, this is a muggle establishment!” she’d argued, and Harry’d pointed out “as far as _you_ know”, sending them all into a lapsed silence thinking about the possibilities of a wizard-run muggle pub in the center of London.)

They talked their way past the man stood outside with a clipboard and found a small table for four.

“Awfully dark in here, isn’t it?” Hermione said nervously. Draco wasn’t quite sure why, but he’d noticed that she got particularly uncomfortable in dark spaces. _Perhaps it’s a perfectly ordinary fear,_ he reminded himself, _not everything about these three has to have some deeper meaning._

Draco volunteered to get the first round, something they always fought him on. (“You mustn’t, Draco! You’re the only one not drinking!” to which he’d always respond, “I’ll be tasting it later, I’m sure”, which always made Ron turn bright red and Hermione dissolve into giggles.) He asked the bartender for the 3 most absurd drinks he could imagine and didn’t miss a beat when his fingers lingered on Draco’s as he passed a twenty-pound note across the bar.

“Pick your poison!” he announced, setting all three on the table between the others. One was very dark forrest green and had an olive garnish. Another was a truly shocking shade of pink, with what looked like a twig stuck out of it. The third was clear, with six frozen grapes sitting at the bottom of the nondescript glass. They all looked at him with disbelief before hurrying to avoid the pink concoction. Ron was the slowest, and accused Draco of putting it closest to him as he looked at the liquid distrustfully. Draco denied it fervently, although, of course, Ron was absolutely correct.

Each of them sampled each of the drinks, and Harry and Ron ended up switching, with Harry liking the Pink drink in spite of himself. Hermione sipped happily at the clear liquid which was almost entirely flavourless, apart from the very strong aftertaste of peppermint.

They sat there for four or five more drinks, each time ordering something completely different. It was a bit like Bertie Bott’s every flavoured beans, Harry pointed out, and they had a fantastic time imagining what horrid flavours they could end up with each time Draco returned with a new challenge. By the end of the night they were all well buzzed and Draco laughed along as they suggested more and more outlandish responses to the concerns of the Moroccans.

Finally, after Hermione pulled a notepad out of her purse to jot down “lodging inside muggle chimneys”, Draco ushered them all out the door and into the streets of Soho. He didn’t usually let them drink this much, but he enjoyed seeing them all so happy. As they walked down the pavement, Ron even put his arm around Draco’s shoulders.

He apparated the other two back to their flat, pouring them both glasses of water and leaving them on the nightstands as Crookshanks purred and wrapped himself around Draco’s ankles. He returned as quickly as he could and took Harry’s elbow firmly, apparating him back to Grimmauld Place. _It’s my own fault for letting them drink so much,_ he thought as he helped Harry out of his jeans. Harry was always a bit handsy when he was drunk, but Draco didn’t mind. He let Harry sink down onto their bed, knowing full well that he’d be asleep in a matter of minutes. No sooner had Draco changed out of his muggle clothes than he heard soft snores behind him.

 

The next day flew by. Draco felt as though he’d only just arrived by the time he finished his paperwork and waved goodbye to Healer Stewart. He’d decided to walk home and when he reached Grimmauld Place he was regretting his decision. It was cold out, and the sun had set long ago. He glanced around before unlocking the door with a tap of his wand. “Harry?”

Harry’s voice drifted down from somewhere upstairs. “Welcome home.”

He smiled and took the stairs several at a time. He had the whole weekend off, so did Harry, and Saturday was their night. It couldn’t get any better.

Upstairs, Harry was in the bath. Draco smiled as he stepped into the room. “What’s this?” Harry didn’t take baths very frequently. He was usually covered in blood, sweat, and grime from work and the idea of a bath in that state wasn’t very appealing, but Draco had suggested it a few months ago and Harry’d quite liked it once they’d given it a go.

“I thought you’d probably want to relax.” Harry said with a grin. “We’ve got a lot to look forward to this weekend.”

Draco smirked, “You’re a bad influence, Potter.” he said, toeing off his shoes as he began to unbutton his shirt.

“Oh, Draco.” Harry said with disappointment, “Slowly. I want to savour this.”

Draco smirked and slowed his fingers, “How long have you been home?” he asked, letting his eyes slide from scar to scar on Harry’s naked body.

“An hour or two.” He said, his gaze fixed, unblinkingly on Draco’s fingers and the slow revealing of skin.

“And how long have you been sat in that bath waiting for me to come home?” Draco slowly shrugged his shirt off his shoulders, pausing with his hands on his belt buckle.

“At least 40 minutes.” Harry said with a laugh.

Draco smirked, “it’d be a shame if I made you wait any longer…” He leant back against the wall opposite the large bath.

Harry sat up a bit, “C’mon, Draco!” he moaned, “Don’t do that…” he didn’t sound entirely convinced, however.

Draco resumed slowly undoing his belt, his dexterous fingers moving at a glacial pace, “I had a nice, long walk home.” his voice was soft and he tried his best to seem unconcerned, “I even stopped at a few shops,” he lied.

“You think you’ll be able to tease me forever?” Harry asked, sinking back down in the bath and taking his prick in his hand. “I think I may have the upper hand in that game.”

Draco smirked, _he always thinks he can out-tease me._ “You think that I’ll be unable to resist you?” He chuckled. He watched, amused, as Harry began to stroke himself. _That’s just not fair._ He thought, ruefully, _I haven’t fed in a fortnight…_ He knew he had almost no chance of getting hard, not unless Harry were to actually touch him, and even then, it was only sometimes that he managed it. _This is the downside of being a vampire that no one ever tells you about._ He thought, briefly imagining Professor Quirrell trying to incorporate that into their first lecture on vampires. “Have you learned nothing, Potter?”

Harry let out a soft sigh and sunk lower in the bath, his eyes fluttering closed as his hand sped up.

 _Would he really come without me?_ Draco wondered, uncertain, watching eagerly as Harry’s other hand reached down to cup his bollocks.

“I think you want this,” Harry said, his eyes fluttering open “but I think I have something that you want more.” Draco sucked in a breath as Harry reached for a cut on his right arm, _he’d refused to let me heal it yesterday…_ Draco took a step forward, but before he could say anything Harry peeled the scab off his skin. A small drop of blood welled on his arm, and he gently spread it onto his finger, holding it up as he made eye contact with Draco. “I think I have something you want very much.”

Draco’s gums ached as his fangs lengthened. He didn’t realise he was moving until he was knelt beside the bath, his eyes locked with Harry’s as he took his bloody finger into his mouth.

Harry grinned as Draco sucked gently on his finger, his eyes fluttering closed as he moaned softly. Draco’s eyes snapped open as he heard the splashing of Harry’s other hand sliding up and down his prick more quickly.

“Oh, fine.” He growled, getting to his feet and quickly stripping off his remaining clothes.

“That’s more like it!” Harry sat back, letting Draco climb into the large bath beside him.

Draco shook his head helplessly and nuzzled against Harry’s neck, “Can I, love?” He whispered.

“Draco-” Harry said, his voice a warning.  _They'd decided long ago. No Compromises._ It was too risky and Draco knew it.

“Just a day early,” he whispered against Harry’s warm skin.

Harry shook his head. “Merlin, Draco. You know I want it, but you’d be furious with me tomorrow, you know you would be.”

Draco’s fangs were still elongated, but he knew Harry was right. He sunk back next to him and let his hand wrap around Harry’s prick. “You’d better hope I’m in the mood tomorrow.” he said darkly, “Maybe I’ll go find someone else to feed from.” He twisted his wrist and Harry gasped with pleasure.

“You’ll be in the mood.” Harry gasped, letting his head fall onto Draco’s shoulder, trickles of water dripping from his damp hair down Draco’s pale chest.

Draco chuckled and sped up his strokes, _he’s right, of course. I will most certainly be in the mood._ It took only a few minutes before Harry grabbed his other hand, squeezing hard. Draco smiled and stilled his hand. Harry’s confused expression melted away as Draco repositioned himself, sloshing water over the side of the bath and sucked Harry into his mouth. He had to be careful with his fangs, but he took in as much as he could and used his tongue expertly before Harry cried out a waning and spilled down Draco’s throat. He sat back and smiled and Harry, whose wet hair was plastered to his cheek where he’d been leaning against Draco. They both smiled and Draco pulled him in for a kiss. The water, warm as when they’d first gotten in, thanks to a clever charm Hermione had imagined up, went spiralling down the plughole as they cautiously made their way across the slippery floor to the towels.

Draco might’ve been getting used to the idea of visiting muggle bars and taking the tube to work, but he hadn’t quite gotten the hang of not using magic whenever he fancied. Harry didn’t mind, of course, but having been raised with muggles, magic was rarely Harry’s first instinct. Draco suspected that he sometimes forgot he was a wizard. When they’d first taken up together, Draco would have summoned their towels to them, would’ve vanished the water on the floor, would’ve dried their hair and bodies in an instant. But there was something about doing it Harry’s way, about watching one another towel off, about clutching one another as they crossed the perilous floor, and about cuddling with slightly damp hair, curled up next to one another under their duvet to keep warm that had a charming… _closeness_ … that Draco couldn’t explain.

They lay in bed, their cold feet rubbing together as they willed the duvet to warm them quicker, “Well, is that it for tonight?” Harry asked softly, leaning his forehead against Draco’s.

“I suppose that’s up to you.” Draco reminded him, without a hint of resentment, “It’s your night. Tomorrow’s mine.”

Harry leaned into him, neither had gotten dressed, and Draco could feel his lover’s hardening cock brushing against his thigh, “I want to come inside you.” he whispered, and Draco started as Harry’s hand brushed his own prick. “Nothing?” he said, disappointed.

“Oh, believe me,” Draco shuddered, “you’re certainly having an effect.” He leant in and caught Harry’s mouth in a quick kiss, “You know it’s just the downside of having to borrow blood.”

Harry laughed, “Then should we not- maybe just wait?”

“Harry Potter, don’t you dare tease me with an offer like that and then take it away!” Draco said sharply and Harry smiled wickedly. Draco threw back the duvet and Harry gasped in shock as the cold air hit him. _Humans._ Draco thought with a grin. “Don’t worry about me, I’ve got plenty of payback planned for tomorrow.”

Harry didn’t even wait for him to finish his idle threat, within seconds he was on top of Draco, straddling his chest as he caught Draco’s lips with his own. Draco was used to being wanted, and he certainly wasn’t a stranger to people worshiping the ground he walked on, but he’d never cease to be amazed at how different it felt when the obsession was mutual. He leaned up into the kiss and let his tongue eagerly encircle Harry’s. As the kiss deepened he pressed his flat palm to Harry’s chest and slowly dragged it down through the dusting of hair, over his scars and muscles. Finally, he found what he was looking for. Harry moaned into his mouth as Draco took hold of his cock.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered against Harry who captured his lips once more. He kept his strokes languid, he wasn’t trying to make his lover come yet, after all.

After a few minutes Harry sat back, wandlessly summoning a small pot of lubricant from the table mere feet from their bed. He climbed off Draco, who reluctantly let go of Harry’s prick and settled back against the pillows. Most often when Harry ate him out he was lain on his stomach, but tonight he wanted to see him. He wanted to watch his lover’s face as he spread him open.

Harry didn’t waste any time, when he saw that Draco intended to stay on his back he smiled wickedly at him and settled himself on the end of the bed, gently sliding his muscular arms under Draco’s thighs to raise his hips. Draco watched his look of gleeful concentration as he ducked his head and closed his eyes. Harry’s warm breath ghosted over his skin, rippling the fine, light hairs as he shivered with excitement. He felt The Chosen One's hands, strong and gentle, and was taken by surprise when a warm, wet heat flicked across his hole. Draco couldn’t hold back a groan and he heard Harry chuckle softly before repeating the action. Draco let himself sink deeper into the pillows as Harry alternated between his tongue and his slick fingers stretching Draco out.

As Harry slid the third finger into his body, Draco couldn’t take any more, “Harry! Please. Merlin,” he gasped, “Just do it.”

Harry’s face reappeared, grinning devilishly as he saw Draco’s eyes watering with desire and his fangs all the way extended.

“In a hurry, Draco?” he teased.

Draco glared, but before he could answer a rapping on the window caused them both to jump in surprise.

Harry stood quickly and let in the regal looking screech owl who was unperturbed by their nakedness and clearly unaware, Draco thought savagely, of what he’d just interrupted.

The owl stretched out his leg importantly and ruffled his feathers as Harry untied the parchment.

“Not the Ministry,” Draco whinged. “Not tonight!”

“It’s urgent.” Harry said, scanning the letter. “They need me in straight away.”

“Can’t you have a night off?” Draco sighed, pulling the duvet over himself in resignation as he watched Harry pulling socks on.

“Apparently not. Don’t think I’m happy about this.” he said darkly, “Ron better have been called in too. He was supposed to be on call tonight.”

Draco watched Harry’s flagging erection ruefully as he pulled up a pair of pants and fumbled in the wardrobe for trousers. “Can’t I at least help with that?”

Harry sighed, “I don’t have time, love.” He fastened his belt hastily, sparing a quick kiss for Draco as he pulled his auror’s robes over his shoulders. “Let’s start over tomorrow night?”

Draco turned his head, pouting. He heard Harry sigh and the soft sound of his footsteps as he hurried out of the room leaving Draco feeling dissatisfied in more ways than one.  

 

***

 

The next morning Draco’s eyes fluttered open as a cool breeze tickled his back. _I forgot to close the window after Harry left…_ Luckily, it was a nice day. The sun was out and the breeze was warm. _He didn’t come home?_ Draco knew he didn’t have to worry; Harry was often gone for days at a time on auror business. He and Ron would set up some sort of stake-out or they’d be stuck at the office doing paperwork until all hours. _They don’t usually call him in in the middle of the night. Particularly not on his days off._ Draco shook the thought aside, it had to be important and he knew that Harry’s unshakable martyr complex meant he was always honoured when they called him in after hours, he saw it as vindication that his skills were indispensable. _Well, I suppose our plans for today will have to change._ He sighed and slowly got out of bed.

 

It took several hours for Draco to finally give up on Harry coming home in the morning. _He’d better find some way to be here tonight,_ Draco mused as he took off the kettle he’d mindlessly set on the hob. Staring at it in frustration he made up his mind that he’d have to go out. There was nothing for it. If he stayed cooped up in Grimmauld place all day he’d soon go mad with boredom.

It took him another hour or so to decide what he’d do instead. Finally, though, he’d showered and dressed and was stood in front of the fireplace. “Diagon Alley,” He said as he stepped into the flames. _At least I can get a bit of the shopping done._

He stepped out of the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron and nodded cordially to Tom. The place was relatively quiet for a weekend, but it didn’t take long after tapping the bricks in the small garden to understand why.

 _Everyone is in Diagon Alley._ It was so crowded that Draco stood, stunned for a few moments before finally stepping onto the cobblestoned street. _It’s not time for the Hogwarts shoppers, is it?_ Draco shook his head, it was June. _No chance that the letters have gone out yet…_ Usually they waited until at least the beginning of July. Yet the shoppers in the crowded lane looked to be of every age. There were children rushing between the adults’ legs, carrying toy broomsticks and chasing one another with handfuls of frog spawn. There were elderly witches and wizards who were sat on benches in front of the shops or who leaned on gnarled walking sticks as they tried to irritably shove their way through the crowds. There were the unmistakeable students, wearing their Hogwarts robes, despite the months still left to go before term would start, greeting one another and clumping into groups, _no doubt based on their houses,_ Draco thought as he saw a group of girls rush past with matching yellow ribbons in their hair.

The shopkeepers were stood in their doorways or beckoning people inside, but despite the massive crowd in the street, the shops seemed fairly empty. _The weather’s too nice for anyone to want to go inside,_ he realized with a smile.

Ahead, Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes seemed to be one of the few shops to have people actually wandering in and out; in with looks of excitement and out laden with bags and parcels. Draco smiled, he hadn’t much liked the Weasley twins, like most Gryffindors they got away with far too much disruption in his opinion. But since the War, that shop had singlehandedly managed to help boost the morale of most of the wizarding community. He knew, apart from the popularity of their products, the idea that they were supporting Fred’s dream, and the admiration that George could carry on working to cheer everyone up were powerful thoughts that meant WWW would not be going out of business any time soon.

Draco nearly tripped over a small child who raced past carrying a fanged Frisbee and had to clutch a nearby witch to avoid falling entirely. He straightened up and turned to apologise only to find himself face to face with Hermione.

“Alright, Draco?” she sounded concerned, her eyes following the child disapprovingly as he disappeared into the crowd.

“Sorry about that, Hermione. I certainly didn’t expect it to be quite so busy today. How are you?” He asked, helping to straighten her robes, “Looks like we had the same idea.”

She gave him a quizzical look but nodded, “I suppose we did.”

“Fancy some compan-” Draco hadn’t finished his thought, however, before the unmistakable voice of Ron drifted over the crowd.

“‘Mione? Where’d you go?” Draco looked at Hermione with something between shock and anger.

Ron appeared a moment later by her side. “It’s a madhouse here!” he gasped, holding a bag from his brothers’ shop. “Let’s get- Draco! Blimey, I didn’t see you!” He stopped as he saw Draco’s expression, “What’s the matter with you, mate?”

Draco was livid. He knew for a fact that Ron was meant to be on call this weekend, which meant if _anyone_ was having to spend the weekend working it should’ve been him by rights and not Harry. “What are _you_ doing here?” He spat.

“What’re you on about?” Ron said with more than a hint of defensiveness.

“Draco, what’s wrong?” Hermione asked, putting her hand gently on his shoulder.

“You’re meant to be on call this weekend.” He said venomously.

“I am.” Ron said, checking the small token in his pocket, developed for all the aurors in the same fashion as the DA’s coins. “I haven’t been called in…”  He looked around suddenly, “where’s Harry?”

“Catching on, are you?” Draco said with a roll of his eyes, “He was called in last night. _On his day off._ ”

“That’s rotten luck, mate.” Ron said, the tips of his ears reddening. “I haven’t heard anything about it. It must be one of his ongoing cases. Otherwise, you’re right, they would’ve brought me in.”

Hermione’s brows remained knit together, “When was he called in, Draco?”

Draco thought about it, “Must’ve been at least midnight. Might’ve been later.”

Ron shook his head, “Sorry, I wish I could help, but it must’ve been something specific to him or one of his investigations.”

Draco sighed, _he’s right. Obviously it was something having to do specifically with Harry._ “I’m sorry, it’s just, it’s the first time we’ve both had the weekend off in ages.”

Ron nodded sympathetically, “Isn’t it-” He hesitated, looking nervous and Draco smiled.

“Yes it is. Tonight, actually.” When they’d first begun their feeding schedule Hermione and Ron had been tasked with ensuring they were sticking to it. Hermione had Ron memorise the rota so that he could check in with Harry at regular intervals, Hermione used to do the same for him. It seemed Ron hadn’t managed to shake the habit.

“Draco, let’s go sit down somewhere,” Hermione suggested, her expression still unhappy, “I’d like to send an owl to the Ministry.”

“We could grab a bite at Puck’s? It’s the new pie shop where Florean’s was.” Ron suggested eagerly, _clearly he’s been looking for an excuse to try it_. Hermione nodded and took Draco’s arm unexpectedly. They fought their way through the crowd and found every outdoor table occupied. Inside, however, the brightly lit pie shop was nearly deserted. Hermione led them to a table in the back and sent Ron to order while she nipped over to the post office.

A few minutes later, Ron resumed his seat beside Draco, “Getting some shopping done?”

Draco shrugged, “I thought I might, I need to visit the apothecary sometime soon.” Ron nodded, but he said nothing. “You visiting your brother?”

To Draco’s surprise, Ron’s ears went red again and he mumbled something unintelligible. Draco’s lip twitched as Ron’s heartbeat sped up dramatically. “What’s this, then, Weasley? Hiding something?”

Ron glared at him, but- much to Draco’s surprise- he threw a glance at the door and leaned in, “Hermione and I haven’t discussed it yet, but Harry knows and I reckon he’ll tell you anyway…” He stole another look at the door, _still no sign of Hermione_ , “I’m thinking about leaving the Ministry.” Draco raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. “Yeah, I dunno. It’s not that I don’t enjoy it, it’s bloody difficult, and working with Harry’s brilliant… but, I dunno… I’ve spoken to George, that’s why I was in there today, he says he’d let me come on as a partner. Help him manage the business. It’d be nice, you know, down the line. If we have kids…” Ron’s voice trailed off and Draco smiled in spite of himself.

“You think you’d enjoy that? I mean,” He shrugged, “It seems like running a shop would be a bit dull, life you’ve lived.”

Ron chuckled, “Yeah, s’pose so. But then again, you don’t know George. Even since- he’s a handful all on his own.” Ron finished, shaking his head.

“Who is?” Hermione said, appearing quite suddenly at the table.

“Blimey! George.” Ron’s ears had reddened once more, but Hermione didn’t seem to notice.

“Well, that’s certainly true.” Hermione said.

“Who were you writing, Hermione?” Draco asked.

“I’m trying to find what Harry’s been called in for.” She said, not meeting Draco’s eyes. “It just seems unusual that I wouldn’t be kept appraised of Auror activities, particularly ones so important as to call our top auror in on his day off.”

Draco wasn’t fooled for a second. “Hermione… What aren’t you telling me?”

Ron looked between them, “Is something going on?”

Hermione shook her head, looking resigned, “No. Honestly, both of you, I’m sure everything’s perfectly fine.”

_If it wasn’t the Ministry that called Harry in last night… who was it?_

 


	2. Habeas Corpus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-beta'd. Feel free to let me know if you notice anything.
> 
> Additional Tags and content warnings in end notes- These are spoilery, so read at your own risk.

Draco tapped his foot anxiously against the table leg, “I really should get back to Grimmauld Place.” After they left Puck’s, Ron and Hermione had insisted he join them at theirs. “Harry could come home any time” he’d protested, but Hermione wouldn’t take no for an answer. Draco wasn’t sure what was making Hermione so nervous. _Surely she doesn’t usually know about_ all _of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement’s activities…_ Even if it was a simple case of miscommunication, it wasn’t like Hermione to get this nervous about things like this. Something was wrong. Something he didn’t know about. _I can’t start worrying yet,_ he reminded himself, _Harry is more than capable of taking care of himself. He defeated the Dark Lord, he can take on whatever the Ministry is up against these days._

Hermione, nevertheless, was not moved. So an hour later Draco found himself sat at the kitchen table in their tidy, chic flat in Diagon Alley. There were some photographs hung on the walls, the moving wizard photographs of their wedding, of a group of Gryffindors sometime around third year (probably taken by the Creevy child), the extended Weasley family from years before, and a few stationary muggle photographs of Hermione’s family. Draco had never gotten the full story, but he was under the impression they’d gone into hiding during the war, _good thing, too._ He didn’t have any idea how their relationship was now, but he’d heard Hermione mention them occasionally. Crookshanks had, as usual, found himself a place on Draco’s lap. He’d taken quite a liking to Draco, showing him far more affection than he’d ever seen the cat offer Ron.

Ron had gone into the office at Hermione’s urging, suggesting that he’d be best placed to find out what Harry was called in for, and to help if he was needed.

Draco couldn’t help but wonder if she really thought that was necessary or if she just wanted Ron out from underfoot. He thought back to Ron’s earlier confession that he was thinking about leaving the Ministry. _It always seemed like a bit of an odd fit for him…_ he mused, _I always figured that he’d become an auror because Harry did._ Draco knew that was probably unfair, but he couldn’t help but wonder if Hermione’s position as Minister made Ron uncomfortable. He knew Ron (for all his scolding of Draco for his family’s pure-blood fantasies) held quite a few prejudices of his own, however well he might try to repress them. _But I’m certainly not one to judge_ , Draco thought ruefully.

Hermione joined him at the table with a cup of tea for herself. It had taken a while to convince the three of them that he didn’t mind watching them eat or drink.

“Alright, Draco?” she asked, unable to disguise the concern in her voice.

“Hermione, tell me what’s going on. Did Harry not go to the Ministry last night?” Draco continued stroking Crookshanks casually, but didn’t leave any room for misinterpretation in his voice.

“I don’t know, Draco. That’s why I’m anxious.” She said gently, “He shouldn’t have been called in unless there was some sort of emergency, and if there was some sort of emergency I should’ve heard about it first thing. I’ve put in place very strict guidelines to avoid just this sort of thing.” She shook her head, “I don’t know if it was some sort of a misunderstanding between you two last night and you thought he’d be going to the Ministry-”

Draco’s eyes flashed. “There was _no_ misunderstanding,” he hissed, “a Ministry owl arrived and he changed into his auror robes and left. It wasn’t exactly an opportune moment,” he said with a glare, “he wouldn’t have left it it wasn’t of critical importance.”

She smiled halfheartedly, “I believe you, Draco. I really do. But you have to understand, Harry is a crucial asset to the Ministry. If he is receiving intra-Ministry communications and I’m not aware, it could be something far more sinister going on.”

“You think Harry’s gotten mixed up in some sort of a coup d’etat?” He scoffed.

“Actually I was thinking about your partner, _my friend’s,_ safety rather than my own, thanks.” She said coldly.

“You’re worried that someone in the Ministry is trying to hurt Harry?” Draco said with pure shock. “Is this a suspicion you’ve held for some time?”

“No, no.” She insisted, “But I have always been worried about keeping him so much in the forefront of the Ministry’s activities.”

Draco nodded, he had wondered about the wisdom of that as well. _Everyone in our world knows Harry’s name, he makes the front page at least weekly, even these days. Everyone knows about us; even our address is pretty common knowledge these days._ Draco knew he was lucky that most wizards didn’t care about the gossip that surrounded them. He knew Witch Weekly ran frequent columns on either himself, Harry, or both, with wild speculation about what their relationship entailed. There had been surprisingly few incidents and for that Draco was very grateful, but he knew it wouldn't continue that way forever.

“So that’s why you’re so nervous. You think he got that letter from someone within the Ministry who’s trying to hurt him?” Draco’s mind was racing as he pieced together the puzzle Hermione was laying out for him. “You think they may have lured him into a trap?”

“I can’t say, Draco.” She sighed, putting her hand gently on his. “He’s very capable, he’ll be able to spot a trap quicker than any of us, I daresay.”

Draco shook his head, _Harry might’ve been quite the hero in school, but he’s been trying to leave the heroics behind him. They’d even talked quite candidly of him taking the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement position someday, about his longing for a desk job._ Draco had teased him about it, about how his love of thrill-seeking would certainly overpower any desire for comfort in Harry Potter’s life.

Just before Draco was able to respond, there was a sharp rap against the window.

Draco and Hermione both leapt to their feet, Crookshanks, furious, ran into the bedroom, spitting as he went. Hermione reached the window first and wrenched it open, letting the big snowy owl inside. It held out its foot and took off with a satisfied hoot.

“It’s from Ron!” Hermione read over the letter three times in quick succession and then passed it over to Draco with a satisfied smile, “See? I knew we were being overly cautious.”

Draco read the letter twice,

**‘Mione**

**Harry’s here.**

**All’s good, but we have some things to work on before we come home.**

**Harry says tell Draco it’s okay and he’ll be home soon as he can.**

**Ron**

Draco sighed and nodded. Handing the letter back to Hermione.

“Looks like he wrote this in a bit of a hurry.” She said, looking once more at Ron’s untidy scrawl. “They’ll probably be held up at the office the rest of the day at this rate.”

Draco suddenly felt exhausted. He knew that it was the day-long adrenaline rush wearing off. “I’m going to go home.” He announced, “I’m tired, I’m frustrated and I’m hungry.”

Hermione nodded, “I’m sorry about all this Draco. I’m sorry I made this out to be more than it was.”

“No,” he said with a sigh, “you were just looking out for Harry. And for me. I appreciate it. You’re a great friend, Hermione.” He smiled and gave her a hug, keenly aware of how warm her skin was against his. _He’d better come home tonight,_ he thought as he apparated back to Grimmauld Place.

It took no time at all for Draco to fall asleep. He didn’t really mean to. He had been sat on the couch for maybe half an hour when he dozed off, having fitful dreams where he fed while a storm of owls barraged his window.

 

***

 

When he awoke, his back was sore from the awkward position and he wondered if Harry was home yet and had just let him sleep.

He got to his feet laboriously and walked down the the kitchen, where he heard someone bustling around. “Harry, we’ve talked about this,” he called as he descended the stairs, “you have to check in with me during the day. You were gone nearly 24 hours with no explanation, no check-in, no-”

Draco stopped short in the doorway as his eyes fell, not on Harry, but on Kreacher, who seemed to be rearranging all of the cutlery again.

“Kreacher?” Draco tried to push down the flurry of frustration that was rising in his throat, “Where is Harry?”

Kreacher bowed deeply to Draco and shrugged his gnarled shoulders, “Kreacher has not heard from his master in three days.”

That _was_ something. Unlike Draco, Harry was very uncomfortable around elves. He had offered to free Kreacher on more occasions than he could count, and each time he was met with stubborn obstinance and outright refusal. Draco understood his dilemma, he didn’t particularly relish in the idea of having elves anymore. Marigold and Daisy also stayed more or less voluntarily, but they did not enjoy nearly the same level of appreciation for their master, as they were both scared to death of Draco. He suspected, for them, it was a matter of the Malfoy family name. But for Harry to not reach out to Kreacher, even just to check in, was noteworthy.

“Why are you here, then? If Harry didn’t summon you, I mean.” Draco had initially worried about whether or not Kreacher would like him, but, predictably, Kreacher had worshiped the ground he walked on from the moment he stepped into Grimmauld Place.

“Kreacher is honoured to serve the noble Harry Potter and the young Mister Malfoy.” He said in his dry, cracking voice.

“By rearranging our spoons?” Draco said dryly, knowing he’d have to wash all of them now, since Kreacher had perhaps the worst hygiene of any creature he’d ever met.

“Every little helps.” Kreacher offered, sagely.

“Fine.” Draco sighed, and made to go back upstairs, but stopped, “If you hear from Harry-” he locked eyes with Kreacher, “You’ll please tell me immediately.”

Kreacher bowed deeply and Draco hurried up the steps. He had just made it to the living room when he heard the _woosh_ of the fireplace.

 _Finally!_ He grinned and smoothed his hair as he strode into the room. No sooner had he reached the doorway than he stopped short.

Hair untidy as ever, face flushed and Auror’s robes dusted with floo powder, Harry looked over his shoulder at Draco. At first, Draco was confused. This looked like Harry, he was wearing Harry’s clothes, and holding Harry’s wand, but Draco knew immediately that this was _not_ Harry Potter.

“Who the bloody hell are you?” He growled, drawing his own wand.

The imposter smiled broadly. “Oh good, I've been so curious! Tell me, could you smell the difference?” He said with undisguised glee. “Is it that obvious to you?” Draco’s eyes narrowed, but the man didn’t look remotely concerned by the glaring vampire who stood, wand out, several metres from him. “Now, would it be different if he weren’t your lover? Or can you smell the potion itself?” Draco let his words sink in, he hadn’t thought about it, but yes, he supposed it was probably the man’s scent that was the first clue. He suspected polyjuice, but he had no idea if that was a part of the scent that he was picking up, the man was too unfamiliar and Draco wasn’t exactly focused right now.

“Who are you? Where’s Harry?” Draco growled again and the man by the fireplace chuckled.

“Because I spent the better part of the day with Ron Weasley and he hadn’t the foggiest.” He continued, his voice sounded just like Harry’s, but he was using phrasing that would’ve made the real Harry scoff.

“I’m sure he knew something was amiss.” Draco said icily, raising his wand, “Now, tell me who you are and where Harry is- or I’ll make you tell me.”

The man’s smile faded and Draco knew he understood how serious Draco’s threat was. “Draco, please. Take a breath! Or, well-" he giggled knowingly and lowered his voice, "I’ve done nothing to hurt Harry,” He lowered his head and held up his hands in what was probably meant to be a gesture of peace, “yet.” He added, looking up through his eyelashes, _through Harry’s eyelashes,_ at Draco.

“You see, I have a vision, and I’m not alone in sharing certain desires.” He began twiddling Harry’s wand in his hand and the reality of Harry being unarmed somewhere began to sink in to Draco’s consciousness. The imposter cleared his throat, “You look like your attention is elsewhere, so let me say again,” The man took a step forward and held the wand with more purpose. “I am not alone.” He met Draco’s eyes and held them with a burning gaze, “and neither is Harry.”

Draco felt a flash of icy fear and burning rage simultaneously, _Harry’s alive, but he’s also being held prisoner._

“He is with one of my associates. Someone I trust with my life, _or with his._ ” It was grotesque, seeing Harry’s own face smiling cheerfully as these words came from his mouth. “So if you cross me, hurt me, or kill me… Harry dies instantly. He’s not in much of a position to resist, I’m afraid.”

Draco shook his head, _Harry Potter is perhaps the strongest wizard to have lived this century, there is no way they’ve just tied him up in some basement somewhere and he’s not trying to get back to me._

The imposter must have guessed what he was thinking, “You see, you’re not the only one with a penchant for potionmaking.” The man said with a smirk. “I’ve found that a simple draught of living death can be altered quite effectively to also suppress any mental processes. So Draco,” he paused for effect, “he doesn’t even know you’re missing him.”

Draco’s blood ran cold. The draught of living death was neigh impossible to brew, and then further altering it could cause very unpredictable results, _if he’s been testing out his experiments on Harry, he could already be dead._

"He has nothing to fear, however, if you behave yourself. We can speak as adults to one another and perhaps we'll find this relationship to be mutually beneficial. In the meantime-"

Suddenly, they both heard the fire begin to crackle, and the imposter stepped aside, rounding on Draco in flash, “If you say a word, he dies. No hesitation, no question. My associate will cut his throat and we’ll ensure you never even get a chance to see the body.” He crossed the room quickly and stood beside Draco who, despite all his preternatural abilities, stood paralyzed with fear.

A moment later, Hermione stepped gracefully out of the fireplace, brushing ash off her robes. “Harry!” She smiled at the imposter and then at Draco, who- had he been human- would’ve looked pale as a sheet, as it was, however, she didn’t notice a thing. “I’m sure Draco told you how worried we were," she gushed, "Ron explained that it was an ongoing project that brought you in. I’m so sorry to have worried Draco over nothing.”

 _She’s bound to notice. She’s the cleverest person I’ve ever met and she’s known Harry for years, he won’t fool her for a second._ Draco stiffened as he felt the imposter’s arm slither through his own, “You were worried about me, Draco?” Harry’s voice murmured in his ear. _It’s not him._ He forced himself to look down, unable to meet Hermione’s gaze. _She’ll notice something’s wrong. She knows me. We’ve become such good friends!_ “Oh, come on, Draco.” The not-Harry traced his fingers carelessly across Draco’s chest, “Don’t be like that. It was work, you know I didn’t have a choice.”

Again, Draco didn’t answer and he heard Hermione sigh.

“I’m sorry, Draco. But he’s back, now.” She said in a reasoning voice. _She thinks I’m giving him the cold shoulder. She doesn’t realise what this is…_ Draco began to panic, he didn’t know how much of what this imposter said was true. Certainly, Draco could absolutely pull out his wand and aim a killing curse right at his chest. _But what if he’s telling the truth... I’d be killing Harry._  Draco wondered if he had some sort of way to communicate with his "associate" or if they could simply kill him before he had a chance to give the order.  _We can't know. I could try to find out, but at this point I don't know enough to make any sort of move with a guarantee of Harry's safety!_ He wondered what would happen if he just blurted it out, just told Hermione. _I can’t risk it…_ he realized with a sinking feeling. _I can’t risk him harming Harry. Any sign that something’s wrong and he could panic. He could kill him. And if not,_ Draco thought about it, _if he is bluffing I’ll find out, and as soon as I have Harry safely home I’ll torture him until he begs for death._

Slowly, he raised his eyes and met Hermione’s gaze. He needed to talk to this imposter alone, _now_. “It’s been a long day, Hermione. Is there anything you need from us? Or did you just stop in to say ‘hello’?”

Hermione looked a little hurt, but she spoke in a firm voice, “I just wanted to check in, and to apologise again. I shouldn’t have worried Draco until we knew what was happening.”

Harry’s laugh sounded oddly natural and Draco couldn’t help but wonder if this imposter had been watching him, studying him… _and for how long…_ “It’s okay, Hermione. Don’t worry about it. Draco and I clearly need to be more open in our communication with one another. I should’ve checked in sooner.”

Hermione beamed and nodded, “Well, I’ll let you two get to it. Tonight’s the night, isn’t it?” She said to no one in particular and Draco felt, _no, he smelled,_ the rush of excitement in the body next to him.

“It is.” Draco’s arm received a firm squeeze. “It certainly is.”

The imposter proceeded to wish Hermione well and thank her again for her diligence, but Draco could hear only muted murmuring. It was like he’d suddenly been submerged in water. Somewhere, far away, he heard Hermione saying good night and the _woosh_ of the flames, but he couldn’t seem to get his bearings.  _We worked so hard to get to where we are. We're finally both happy,_ he thought, desperately.  _And for what, so this madman could kidnap Harry for ransom? Is that was this was about?_  

“Well,” The cold, yet familiar voice cut through the thickness inside his mind, “this is going to be fun.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updating! I don't want to make promises that I'll inevitably break, but I finally have an outline so hopefully I'll be working on this with more frequency!
> 
> CONTENT NOTE: The following chapters will include elements of non-con. If this is not something you're comfortable with, I'll make sure to put a chapter note at the beginning of each chapter that includes this.
> 
> ADDITIONAL TAGS: Kidnapping, Non-consensual touching


	3. Exhibit One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ADDITIONAL TAGS: Kidnapping, Non-consensual touching
> 
> Content warning in end notes

“ _Our night_.” The imposter’s voice ripped through the haze of Draco’s thoughts. “I daresay I’ve been looking forward to this for sometime now.”

Draco felt his fangs lengthening, though not for the usual, lust-filled reasons. Instead, he was barely able to contain himself, his hands shaking with rage.

“I’m sure you had quite a night planned.” The imposter continued, his hot breath ghosting across Draco’s ear as he narrowly managed to avoid a shudder. _If there’s one thing being a Malfoy has taught me, it’s that there is immeasurable value in keeping an inscrutable expression and choosing the right words._ Draco stared straight ahead, weighing his options. _If I wanted, I could easily kill him right now. Right here._ He licked his lips absentmindedly, imagining the imposter’s blood pooling around him on the floor of Grimmauld Place. _But I have no reason to believe he’s lying about having an accomplice. If he really does have some way to communicate with them, there’s no way that I can risk Harry’s life like that. Of course,_ Draco shut his eyes tight as the imposter began stroking his chest, his whole body burning to tear him limb from limb, _if he doesn’t have an accomplice he could just have Harry hidden away somewhere. If it’s that simple, then I could kill him now and the Ministry would gladly help me search for Harry._

Draco opened his eyes slowly as the hands that were stroking his chest began to slide further down his abdomen. They reached the top of his trousers and hesitated.

Draco moved like a bolt of lightning, giving no warning at all and completely unable to control his rage as he threw the Harry look-alike to the ground. The other man gave a sharp gasp, but Draco held him against the floor by his throat. He must’ve looked a sight, because the man’s eyes widened as he caught sight of Draco above him. _How do you like that, you spineless git?_ The imposter met his gaze and, to Draco’s horror, rocked his hips up into Draco, demonstrating an impressive erection. Draco let go of his throat and quickly climbed off of him, disgusted.

“Do be careful, Draco.” His voice was no more than a whisper, “As much fun as it is when you get angry, you’d hate for my associate to misinterpret your intentions. That would be just awful for poor Harry now, wouldn’t it?”

Draco stood, his vision blurred, and glared down at the man on the floor with malice. It was strange for him to see Harry’s face, his body, his clothing- even, and still feel such vicious hatred.

“How do I even know he’s still alive?” Draco spat, “You’ve given me no reason _not_ to kill you. Without offering any proof that Harry’s alive, how could you possibly imagine that I’d believe you, or spare your life?”

The imposter smiled, but, for the first time Draco noticed that his confidence seemed to waiver. “You’re quite right, Draco.” He said amicably. Had Draco been human he wouldn’t have noticed the way his heart skipped as he spoke. _He’s afraid. He knows I’ve gotten the upper hand_ , with a sudden shock Draco realised, _he’s going to prove it. He knows he has no choice._

He watched the imposter get to his feet, slowly and gingerly. “You know, Draco. I will need something from you first.” He rubbed his throat cautiously, still breathing heavily from Draco’s attack.

Draco smiled, his fangs on full display, “I think not. You’re going to prove to me that my partner is alive, or I’ll kill you right now.”

The man shook his head, “bring me my bag.”

Draco scoffed, “You think I’m an idiot?”  
“No.” The sincerity in the man’s voice caught Draco off-guard. For the first time, he sounded like Harry. “No, I don’t think you’re an idiot.” He reached his hand out, “My bag, please.”

Draco wasn’t sure what to do. _Just check it first,_ he reasoned with himself, _you can make sure he doesn’t have a stake or something and then hand it over._ Slowly, against his better judgement, Draco walked to the bag that the imposter had left by the fireplace. He picked it up, carrying it cautiously across the room. Just before he reached the imposter, he pulled open the clasp and and looked inside. Taking up most of the space inside… was a mirror. Draco looked in with a mixture of horror and confusion. He hated it. Hated not seeing himself. _What kind of trick is this?_ His mind was pulling anxiously at him, warning him, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the unobstructed reflection of the ceiling of Grimmauld Place. _It’s like I’m not even here…_

“My bag, please.” The man reminded him, softly.

For a wild moment, Draco considered flinging the bag against the wall, shattering the mirror, tearing out the imposter’s throat. _Harry._ The moment passed and Draco found himself holding the bag out as the man snatched it from him. Without looking inside, the imposter slung it over his shoulder and took a step toward Draco, who couldn’t help but bare his fangs.

“Careful, Draco,” the man cautioned. He began to slowly circle Draco, his left hand pressed flat against Draco’s chest, dragging along his shoulder and onto his back as he encircled his prey. Every instinct Draco had, both his vampire instincts and those he’d had long before that, were screaming at him to do something. _Make a scene, cut his throat, threaten him, bleed him dry…_

“Don’t want you doing something you’d regret.” The man chuckled softly and with a swift motion, Draco felt a stinging pain in his neck.

“What the-” Draco’s vision began to swim almost at once, his neck, his arteries, were screaming with a white hot pain. Unable to stand, Draco fell to his knees, clutching his neck and sputtering. “What did you do to me?”

The man leant down and held a small syringe in front of Draco’s unfocused eyes, “a tincture of silver.” His smile was audible in his voice and Draco had to put a hand on the ground to steady himself. “Such a trace amount that you’ll survive… if you feed.” His voice was malicious and gleeful and Draco’s hazy mind wanted nothing more than to slaughter him, “But you’ll be disoriented. Just enough that I can take you to see your beloved Auror.”

Draco’s breath caught and he had to remind himself that breathing was unnecessarily using valuable energy. _I’ve got to see him. Save him._ For a brief moment, as the imposter pulled him to his feet, Draco meditated on the fact that for the 5 years after the war, the 5 years before Harry returned to his life, he had remarkably few near-death experiences. _I wonder if that says more about him or me?_ Draco felt an arm snake around his waist, but he couldn’t shake him off. Without warning, everything went dark; he felt as though he was being squashed from every direction; his chest was crushing in on itself, his eyes felt as though they were being pulled into his skull and his few remaining senses were left totally incapacitated, _we’re apparating._

 

***

 

 

 _Draco stood, alone, in the dark. There were people running in every direction; screams coming from the woods behind him; blasts of light and frantic shouts as people called out for their loved ones. “Stay out of sight, Draco,” his father had ordered, “We’ll find you when it’s done.” His mother had kissed him gently on the forehead and handed him his dressing gown. “Wait for us in the trees. You’ll be perfectly safe.” Draco had protested, “where are you going? I want to come with you!” He’d begged his father, but he’d been brushed aside,_ as usual _, “Listen to your mother, Draco.” And with that, they’d gone. Now Draco stood alone in the trees and watched as the masked figures moved across the field. He watched as the muggle family were tossed about._ I wonder why the Ministry let them stay? _He thought,_ they shouldn’t have been here in the first place.

_A yelp of pain caught his attention not more than 50 metres from where he stood._

_“What happened? Ron, where are you? Oh this is stupid —_ lumos _!” Draco realised just in time who the voice belonged to and quickly composed himself, wiping his face and leaning casually against a tree trunk._

_“Tripped over a tree root” Weasley spat, stumbling to his feet._

_Draco smiled and crossed his arms, “Well,” he said, “with feet that size, hard not to.” He regretted it almost instantly, as the three musketeers rounded on him. Luckily, Granger was the only one with her wand drawn, but they needn’t know that Draco had stupidly left his in the tent._ I wouldn’t stand a chance if they decided to hex me right now. _He realised with a growing sense of unease._

_“Fuck off, Malfoy!” Weasley spat and Draco narrowly suppressed a smirk._

_Behind him he could hear the Death Eaters moving closer, “Language, Weasley. Hadn’t you better be hurrying along, now? You wouldn’t like_ her _spotted, would you?” he warned, inclining his head toward Granger._

_“What’s that supposed to mean?” A bright flash illuminated her face and he saw a flicker of fear behind her obstinate expression._

Why are they hanging around? _He wondered,_ surely picking a fight with me isn’t worth getting caught up in all of that? _“Granger, they’re after Muggles,” Draco couldn’t believe he had to spell it out. “D’you want to be showing off your knickers in midair? Because if you do, hang around… they’re moving this way and it would give us all a laugh.”_

 _“Hermione’s a witch,” Harry piped up._ Potter to the rescue, as usual _._

 _“Have it your own way, Potter,” Draco said sarcastically,_ if they’re thick enough to stick around and offer Granger up as bait, I’m not going to stop them. _“If you think they can’t spot a Mudblood, stay where you are.”_

_“You watch your mouth!” Weasley’s voice rang through the clearing over the ever-louder shouts._

_Draco’s warning had made an impression, though. Granger tugged on Weasley’s arm, “Never mind, Ron!” she insisted, just as a loud bang echoed through the trees just on the other side of the clearing._

_Draco privately wondered how well they could see in those masks, he knew he was recognisable, but in the dark he was hardly distinguishable from the rest of these screaming idiots. “       Scare easily, don’t they?” He was trying to keep the edge off of his voice, desperate for the three of them to leave so that he could get himself hidden. “I suppose your daddy told you all to hide? What’s he up to? Trying to rescue the Muggles?”_

_Potter took the bait and took a step forward, “Where’re your parents? Out there wearing masks, are they?”_

_Draco smiled as sweetly as he could, “Well . . . if they were, I wouldn’t be likely to tell you, would I, Potter?”_

_“Oh come on, let’s go and find the others.” Hermione’s voice was insistent and Draco smiled as she dragged the others away._

_“Keep that big bushy head down, Granger,” he called after her._

_No sooner had the three of them vanished into the darkness than he felt something brush past him, yelping in surprise and fear, he ducked behind the tree he’d been leaning against._

_“Who’s there?” Draco shouted, the lights from his parents’ and the others’ wands were near enough to keep the clearing almost constantly illuminated, he saw a glimpse of what he thought was a goblin, running awkwardly in the direction the trio had just vanished._ I’ve got to get out of here, _Draco thought desperately,_ I’ll circle around behind them… Perhaps I’ll just go wait back in the tent. _He smiled, the campsite was cleared out, everyone had fled into the forest,_ safest place I could be _. He ducked past a low hanging branch and fought his way through some light underbrush, winding his way back to the campsite the long way, so as not to get in the way of whatever his parents and their friends had planned. He remembered his father’s voice telling him that the Ministry was being overrun by Muggle-loving fools like Weasley’s father. “The whole point of the Ministry is to protect_ our _people. But a few cretins like Arthur Weasley come in and now Muggles all over Britain are just one memory charm away from spilling our secrets to the world. We’ve come too far to let the Ministry’s incompetence endanger our way of life.”_

 _Draco breathed in the cool air as he stepped out onto the field. The path where the Death Eaters had walked was cleared of tents. They were strewn, either blasted apart or trampled, on either side of the growing swath where they’d carried the Muggles,_ a warning. _Draco knew better than to get involved. Picking his way cautiously through the wet grass and debris, Draco had taken only a few steps into the clearing when suddenly an emerald green glow lit the grass around his feet. Confused, Draco looked up and felt his blood run cold._ It’s him _, he thought in terror. He knew the sign. His father had shown it to him when he was old enough, “You mustn’t mention this to anyone, Draco.” his father had whispered, leaning in close and pulling up the sleeve of his robe, “too many people still don’t understand.”_

_Draco watched in horror as the serpent-tongue slithered across the sky like a fiendish constellation. His parents had warned him, “Draco, The Dark Lord is powerful, more powerful than you can imagine.”_

_“Aunt Bella is in Azkaban because of him, isn’t she?”_

_“Yes, son. Your Aunt Bella had nothing to lose. Some of us, you see, we stood by him, but when he fell- we had to keep our heads down, be clever.” His father had stroked his hair as he told him about how they’d managed to fool each and every Ministry official who tried to tie them to The Dark Lord’s ‘crimes’. “Everything the Dark Lord did, he did to ensure young wizards like yourself would grow up free from the Muggle stain on our society.”_

_Now, here it was. Right above him. The Mark rose higher and higher in the sky as Draco watched it, transfixed._ What will he do to them? _He wondered,_ He’ll understand, won’t he? They had to return to their lives. _The screams in the forest had died down and Draco was suddenly aware that he was standing, alone, in the middle of the campsite. He sprinted as fast as he could until he saw his family’s tent. Ducking inside, he took a deep breath, grabbing his wand from the armoire in his bedroom he turned out the lights. He crouched down next to his bed his wand outstretched, and despite the warmth of their top of the line tent, he shivered._

 

_***_

 

Draco gasped as the squeezing sensation stopped abruptly. He still felt disoriented, unsteady, and was quite certain that he was only standing because the imposter was holding him up. Draco tried to force his eyes to cooperate as his new surroundings swam hazily in his unsteady vision. There was a ringing in his ears that he couldn’t seem to shake and he was probably swaying, though his equilibrium was so disrupted, he couldn’t say for sure.

From what little he could make out from the swirling chaos, he seemed to be in a darkly lit room, he couldn’t see the walls, but he thought they looked a bit like stone. _Scotland? Wales?_ He desperately looked around himself, trying to spot any clues to his actual location, but it was like his vision had some sort of lag. He couldn’t seem to focus on anything and the burning under his skin was spreading throughout his body. _He’s going to kill me. I’m going to die here, in this… wherever I am._ Draco felt his knees give way, but the imposter still had him held tightly by the waist.

“Steady, Draco. You’re the one who wanted to come here.”

 _I didn’t want to be poisoned first, you utter bastard!_ Draco thought, but he could barely keep his eyes open, never mind speaking.

“You actually brought him?” Draco tried to whirl around as a voice behind him broke through the silence. Of course, he was completely incapable of whirling around and it was futile anyway, as the imposter’s grip tightened around his middle.

 _He wasn’t lying._ Draco’s heart sank, _he does have an accomplice._

“You heard him, he made a very convincing argument.” The imposter didn’t turn, holding Draco steady so that he had no chance to look behind him.

“Is it dangerous?” the voice asked, it was low, almost a whisper, and that made it nearly impossible for Draco to glean anything useful. He couldn’t say with any real certainty if it belonged to a male or female, whether the speaker was British, or even whether or not he’d heard it before. He tried in vain to discern exactly where the speaker was, but he was too disoriented. His head was spinning and he could feel blackness creeping around the edges of his consciousness.

“I gave him a little something.” The hand around his waist gently lifted the edge of his shirt, resting his hand on Draco’s bare abdomen. “To keep him… docile.” Draco felt a tear run down his face. He had never felt so helpless in his life. The imposter’s thumb stroked his bare skin casually as he continued to hold Draco up. “Where is he?”

The person behind them must’ve had a wand, because suddenly a gust of air burst through the room and threw the invisibility cloak from a camp bed in front of them. Harry lay there, naked and pale as a ghost, but a soft, ragged breathing made Draco gasp with relief.

 _He’s right here. All I need to do is overpower them…_ Draco had never been phenomenal with wandless magic, certainly nowhere near as good as Harry _, if only I could summon the strength like I managed before, when Harry was dying…_ But Draco knew that wasn’t going to happen again. _All I have is whatever I can muster here and now._ Draco took a deep, unnecessary breath, and threw himself forward.

He had no particular plan in mind, but the darkness was beginning to close in around his vision, _I don’t have long._ To his utter astonishment, he had managed to catch the imposter by surprise. No one tried to stop him as he fell forward onto the edge of the camp bed. He grasped at Harry’s ankles, desperately trying to rouse him in a futile attempt to grab the upper hand.

“ _Crucio_!” the voice behind him rasped. Draco braced himself for the pain, but none came. Wondering if the spell had gone wrong, he tried to turn himself so that he could see the accomplice.

 

It was at that moment that he noticed a slight twitch in Harry’s ankle. It was almost undetectable, but twice, a small spasm caught his attention just above the lateral malleolus. _Is he waking?_ He thought with surprise _, no..._ He blinked hard, trying to bring Harry into focus, but no matter how hard he tried his vision swam and grew darker with each passing second. Again, he felt a twitch in his lover’s leg. _It wasn’t aimed at me._ He realised with such shock that he actually managed to cry out.

“No!” He cried, his voice breaking as he watched Harry’s nearly lifeless body tense, unable to resist or express the excruciating pain it was in. “Sto-” Draco slumped down against the edge of the camp bed, unconscious before he even hit the floor.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT NOTE: This and the following chapters will include elements of non-con. If this is not something you're comfortable with, I'll make sure to put a chapter note at the beginning of each chapter that includes this.


	4. Damages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ADDITIONAL TAGS: Kidnapping, Non-consensual touching, violence/gore
> 
> Content warning in end notes

Draco felt the warmth against his lips, a stark contrast from the cold hardness beneath his head. His senses were groggy, but as the warmth seeped past his lips he could the familiar, life-giving sweetness tickling his tongue. _Blood._ Draco moaned softly, unintentionally, and tried to open his uncooperative mouth. He swallowed greedily, his senses sharpening. _Harry’s blood._ He felt the corner of his mouth twitch. Draco couldn’t remember his dream exactly, but someone had hurt Harry, and he’d dreamed that he had to protect him. His groggy paralysis hadn’t let up in the least and he felt warm streams of blood spilling onto his cheeks and pooling at his suprasternal notch. His tongue, revitalized by the fresh blood that he was now eagerly guzzling down, sought out the inside of his lips, gently nudging them apart so the blood could flow more freely into his awaiting mouth.

He remembered snippets from his dream, _attacking someone… attacking Harry…_ but it hadn’t been Harry. He remembered that, somehow, Harry hadn’t been himself. _Not unusual for dreams, though, is it?_ He thought, _there are always people who you know, but look like strangers or people who you swear looked like one person, but when you wake you somehow know they were someone else the whole time._ Draco wondered why he was so slow to awaken this morning, usually, _especially on their day_ , he was up before Harry. _What happened last night?_ He tried to remember, doing his best to separate the reality from the dream, but he found he couldn’t remember. _It had felt so real._ He gasped suddenly, spluttering as his lungs awakened, allowing him to breathe once more.

The scent of the room was the first sign that something was wrong. He couldn’t tell what it was precisely, but he knew for a fact he was neither at Grimmauld Place nor the Manor. _Where are we?_ Fighting against the lethargy, he slowly opened his eyes.

The room snapped sharply into focus as Draco gazed up in horror at the face above him. _It wasn’t a dream._ The face looked like Harry in every way, his scar, his few freckles, the way some of his eyebrow hairs grew in awkward directions, but behind the piercing green eyes there was an unfamiliarity, an eagerness that he’d never seen in Harry.

_Something malicious._

Draco tried to pull his head away from the bleeding wrist, tried to refuse, but the imposter had it pressed firmly against his lips and his head was already crushing into the dusty wooden floor beneath him. Draco tried to close his lips tight, but he was so weak and the blood was so fresh, warm, and appealing that he couldn’t fight his need, that instinct that was out of his control.

The face smiled, “Welcome back, Draco.” Harry’s voice said, his tone somewhere between mocking and flirting. Draco inhaled through his nose, _ugh, I can smell it._ He didn’t have to look to know that the imposter was hard. He could smell his arousal, taste it in his blood. The imposter shuddered, “Don’t be greedy, Draco.” He muttered, his eyes glassy as he pulled his bloody wrist gently from Draco’s mouth, “Just needed enough to get you back on your feet.” He grinned, “you’ll be able to feed properly later.”

With his head no longer trapped, Draco looked around and felt his heart sink. He was lain right beside the camp bed where Harry was still curled, naked and unconscious. Draco strained to hear a heartbeat. _There!_ He breathed a sigh of relief, despite how weak and slow his heartbeat was, Harry was still alive. Draco’s eyes darted around the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of something to serve as a clue to where they are.

The room was dark and derelict. The wooden floors were coated with a fine layer of dust and the stone walls had patches where moss had crept into the cracks. There was a small corridor off the main room, possibly leading to a bedroom or kitchen, but Draco couldn’t say for sure. In this room there was nothing but the camp bed, a small chair, in which the imposter now sat, and a small table with a kettle and mug.

 _Nothing to show where we are with any certainty._ Draco could feel the cool air, he knew they must be further north than London, but it didn’t narrow down their location much. He realized with a start that the accomplice was no longer in the room. _Perhaps they’ve left the house…_ Draco wondered how easy it would be to overpower the imposter. He knew he wouldn’t be able to wake Harry, not if the imposter was telling the truth about the draught of living death. _He’s told the truth thus far…_ Draco eyed the imposter cautiously, _I could put him under the imperious curse and force him to make the antidote._ Draco’s lip twitched. He knew that’s what would have to be done. One thing that he’d always admired in Harry and his friends was their willingness to just say “consequences be damned” and do what needed to be done (and frequently things that didn’t strictly speaking _need_ to be done, but felt right at the time). Draco had always been cut from more of the careful planning mould. If he had something that needed to be done he’d spend weeks, if not months, carefully planning for every contingency. His perfectionist streak was apparent in both the high marks he’d received at Hogwarts and now in his work at St. Mungo’s. He’d never imagined he’d spend copious amounts of time with Potter, Weasley, and Granger, and he certainly couldn’t have predicted that he and Hermione would become such close friends, identifying on a level that Ron and Harry never properly understood.

He could see everything that needed to be done, but he had no idea how to go about it. If he were a Gryffindor, perhaps he’d just start trying things, hoping that he wouldn’t get Harry killed along the way, but his cautious streak was too powerful.

“I can see the wheels turning, Draco.” The imposter said with a smile, snapping Draco out of his thoughtful stupor. “You should refrain from trying any stupid heroics. You’ll only get yourself hurt… or worse.” The imposter flicked his wand casually toward Harry and Draco half expected a flash of green light. Nothing happened, however, and Draco was intensely aware at how much power this man had over him.

His fangs were extended, _when did that happen?_ Draco furrowed his brow, he couldn’t keep straight everything that had happened in the past 24 hours, _has it even been that long?_ He also couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew this imposter somehow. _Is it because he calls me Draco? Plenty of people call me Draco. He could just as easily be some deranged fan from the Prophet’s stories on Harry’s relationship with me._

“I think it’s time for us to return home.” He stood quickly and Draco couldn’t help but notice how unlike Harry he looked, even whilst wearing his face and his clothes. “We’ve taken enough of their time here.”

“I see that you have an accomplice,” Draco knew he was taking a risk, but he didn’t know what else to do. _I don’t have enough information._ “but what’s to stop me from killing you once we get back? Your accomplice will never know…”

The imposter smiled, a sight that made Draco feel terribly sad. _Harry’s smile, but it was all wrong._ “Of course, I am never one to pass up the opportunity to show off my accomplishments!” He grabbed Draco’s wrist with his still bloody arm and yanked him to his feet. Draco was still weak, but he suspected he’d be able to overpower him if he tried, “You’ll have to see my latest creation!”

In the next room there were no lights at all, only an ancient-looking armchair facing a large, silver basin that was sat on a small table. “I got the idea from the muggles, believe it or not!” Inside the basin was a silvery mist, _or perhaps a pale white liquid…_ and Draco recognized what he had seen on several occasions inside Severus’ office during his fifth year.

“You see,” The imposter said with a smile, “I’ve perfected the Pensieve.” He tapped the basin gently with his wand and the silvery mist seemed to float out of it, projecting a three-dimensional image in the air, hung just above the surface of the Pensieve’s contents. Draco saw, to his shock, that the image that was hovering there was of himself, staring in surprise at some spot off to his left. It had been so long since he’d seen himself he nearly didn’t recognize the face looking out of the mist. His hair was longer, and there was blood smeared across his face. Unconsciously, Draco raised his hand to his lips to wipe away the blood but stopped short as the three-dimensional image mirrored his movements exactly. He stood, frozen, looking at his own shocked expression. “I got the idea from the muggles’ technology, you see.” The imposter said next to him, and Draco turned to look at him, seeing his reflection turn as well out of the corner of his eye. “They’ve built these _cameras_.” He gushed and it was all Draco could do to keep from looking back at the image of himself. “These cameras that can show what a person is seeing as they’re seeing it. They can do it constantly; watch what others are seeing. It’s called a ‘live stream’.” He smiled, obviously pleased with himself. “Now, I’ve managed to ensure that no matter where I am, anywhere in the world, my perception, in real time, is being shown here.” _So his accomplice can see everything he sees, always._ Draco’s heart sank. _Even if I snuck up behind him, they’d see him fall to the ground, or perhaps it would stop working if he lost consciousness... either way, I’m sure the accomplice has been instructed to kill Harry if they lose contact._

Draco couldn’t help it, he looked back at the three-dimensional Draco stood before him, now facing almost entirely away, just as he was to the imposter. _It really was quite ingenious._ He had never considered a Pensieve as a way to see his own image again… he’d just resigned himself to the idea that he’d never again be able to see his own face.

“Always so difficult to impress, Draco. Now look at you- speechless at something I’ve perfected.”

Draco’s mind snapped back to attention, _I definitely know him. This is someone who knows me personally. Someone who felt that I didn’t appreciate them…_

Draco tore his gaze away from himself and looked back into those green eyes, “You’ve done well,” He acquiesced, hoping the imposter would give him some further clue as to his identity, “how long have you been planning all this?”

The imposter smiled as Draco’s words stroked his ego, “It’s been some time.” He looked as though he might continue, but a soft click in the other room snapped him out of it. “It’s time for us to get going.”

Draco opened his mouth to protest, but the imposter took his arm roughly and with that same, unpleasant squeezing sensation Draco was whisked back to Grimmauld Place.

 

***

Draco landed hard on the drawing room floor and felt his knees buckle beneath him. _There is a very good reason I don’t side-along._ He thought as he took deep gulps of air to steady himself. He still felt very weak from the silver poisoning of the night before.

“Oh, now that’s a pretty sight.” The imposter said with a grin, stepping in front of Draco, who was still on his knees. Draco glared and struggled to his feet, swatting away the hand that was offered to him. “Come now, Draco!” The imposter pouted, “You need to feed properly. Let’s get you upstairs, run you a bath, and we can do it just like you’d planned with Harry.”

“Get off me.” Draco hissed, “I don’t know what sort of sick fantasy you’ve been playing out in your head, but I will not be manipulated or blackmailed.”

The imposter smiled, “Au contraire, Draco.” He pulled a knife from his robes and held it to his forearm, “you will be both manipulated,” he slowly dug the tip of the blade into his skin and Draco felt his fangs lengthen once more as the blood began to drip down his arm, “and blackmailed.”

Draco shook his head. “No.”

The imposter looked hurt, “What’s the problem, Draco?”

“I only feed from Harry.” Draco said, his teeth gritted and his eyes shut tight.

“You fed from me earlier.” The imposter said with a smile in his voice. “You seemed to enjoy it.”

“I was unconscious.” Draco spat.

“Besides, this _is_ Harry’s blood.” Draco heard the imposter step forward, but he couldn’t seem to make his own legs retreat, “So you’re not breaking any rules here.” His voice was soft and seductive and Draco had to shake his head to clear it.

“You are not Harry.”

“But I am, Draco.”

Draco opened his eyes, glaring maliciously at the imposter who was wearing Harry like a costume. “I may not be able to kill you, but I will not play into your grotesque fantasy.”

The man grinned, “Wrong again, I’m afraid.” Without warning, he brought the knife down against his other forearm and blood splattered against the wooden floor as he dropped the knife. His arms both bled freely, the scarlet liquid beginning to pool beneath him. “You don’t have a choice, I’m afraid.”

Draco could feel panic mixing in with the bloodlust.

“You see, if you don’t stop the bleeding, I’ll die. My accomplice has clear instructions that should I die, Harry’s to die as well.”

Draco took a deep breath to steady himself, which was the wrong choice. The scent of Harry’s blood, though with a slight unfamiliarity to it, hit him full force. There had to be several pints of blood on the floor now, and Draco could see the imposter’s face ( _Harry’s face)_ becoming paler and paler. _I could easily heal him without feeding from him._ Draco knew that was the correct answer, he knew that there was no reason to doubt his abilities as a healer, but he also knew that he would need to feed soon, regardless.

“Come now, Draco.” The imposter’s voice sounded tired, and he walked faintly across the room to sink into one of the chairs, “If you don’t feed from me, who would you choose? A muggle? Hermione? What if you can’t stop? You have an awful lot of incentive to keep Harry alive… will you be able to control yourself as well with anyone?”

Draco shook his head, raising his wand to heal the wound before him. “I can take care of myself,” he hissed.

“Like you did after your parents abandoned you?”

The imposter’s words hit Draco like a brick. _How does he know so much?_

“Like how they walked out of your life and you were forced to pick up the pieces. All alone in that big, empty manor?”

Draco’s wand shook in his hand, _do it now. You don’t have a choice._ But something was stopping him, some morbid curiosity.

“You were all alone, nobody to care for you. For the first time in your life- no one cared. At all.”

“Who are you?” Draco asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“In school you had Snape, you had your father, you had so many friends…”

“Who are you?”

“Then the war came and you had the Dark Lord. Even He cared about you!”

“The Dark Lord didn’t care about me.” Draco said softly, his wand arm felt weak and useless and he realised with a cold shudder that he had no intention of healing the wounds. “He used me as a way to punish my father, but he did _not_ care about me. I was a means to an end.”

The imposter smiled broadly, the colour was fading from his lips. _He’s going to die. And so is Harry._

Draco lowered his wand, _he’s right, of course. You need to feed. You need your strength. You haven’t fed for a fortnight, and he poisoned you with silver last night… You can’t afford to let him die. Not like this. He deserves to die slowly, painfully… not at the expense of Harry’s life._

“You still think you’re the victim, Draco? How many lives did you ruin? How long were you a monster _before_ you were turned?” He chuckled weakly, “Don’t get me wrong, I admire you. You were always so admired, even now-” The imposter’s eyes fluttered closed, his head lolling back awkwardly against the chair.

Draco moved in quickly, kneeling right in the middle of the puddle of blood at the man’s feet. He could feel it soaking his robes as he leant in and licked his way up from his dripping wrist. He reached the wound on his right arm and licked it eagerly, taking the blood that was seeping to the surface into his mouth and swallowing quickly. At the same time his hand flew up to the imposter’s shoulder, shaking him roughly, _he needs to see what I’m doing. The pensive has to show his accomplice that I’m not letting him die._ Draco couldn’t understand why he’d waited this long. The feeling of panic was overwhelming, combined with the stir in the pit of his stomach that the blood was eliciting. He could feel the wound healing beneath his ministrations so he quickly moved to the other arm, focusing on healing the wound before lapping up the excess blood. He wondered if he would be able to rouse him, _I don’t have a choice,_ he thought desperately. The shaking was having no effect, however, no matter how roughly he shook the unconscious imposter.

 _Desperate times…_ the thought flashed through his mind a second before he decided. Unhesitatingly, he threw the imposter’s head to one side, leaned over him and tore his fangs into the man’s throat. He’d easily be able to drink his fill, and, just as he predicted, the sudden shock and pain caused the imposter to gasp out. Draco leaned back just enough to see that the imposter’s eyes were open, pupils dilated, and mouth agape as he watched Draco dive back into his feeding. Draco’s hair was no longer tied back, he could feel it tickling his cheek and it was, no doubt, matted with drying blood. _I must look a mess._ He thought vaguely as he drank hungrily from the imposter’s jugular.

 

***

 

Though he knew, objectively, that only minutes had passed, when Draco finally pulled himself off the imposter and sat back, breathing heavily, he felt as though he’d fed for hours.

The pool of blood in which he’d knelt was now smeared across the floor where his robes had dragged, and Harry’s trousers, auror robes, socks, and trainers were all soaked completely through with blood. Draco knew that he, lying in a pool of blood, his face covered with the stuff, must look like a demon. He imagined summoning Ron or Hermione to the house to find him like this, with what looked like Harry unconscious in the chair next to him. _They would crucify me first, ask questions later._

Draco smiled indulgently at his little fantasy, and was struck with the realisation that this might be his only chance to search the imposter’s person and belongings. He’d arrived wearing Harry’s clothes, _carrying his wand, even,_ so Draco suspected he wouldn’t have any personal effects. Of course, he had to check. Inside the imposter’s bag Draco found another phial of silver, which he hastily vanished, _not taking any chances_ , several spare robes, a small diary that was empty as far as Draco could tell at first glance, and a small scrap of paper torn from a book. Draco recognized the recipe for polyjuice potion and on the back nothing but the letters TRN scrawled on it.

_TRN._

Draco stared at the paper, unsure what to do, before he finally got to his feet. He needed a shower, and he needed time to think. _TRN. Initials? “Turn”? An acronym?_ Tomorrow Draco would have to go back to work- and so would Harry. Would the imposter call out ill, or would he relish the thought of going in Harry’s place? _He’d done it before. He even fooled Ron._ Draco’s mind snapped back to Ron and Hermione once more, _can I risk telling them? Would they be able to act as if they didn’t know? Would they panic?_ Draco knew the worst case scenario would be that Ron wouldn’t be able to hide what he knew and the imposter would realise Draco had told him, or Hermione would send aurors all over the country looking for the place they’ve hidden Harry and word would get back to him somehow. It would inevitably go wrong. Draco knew he couldn’t risk it. _They’ll be furious with me…_ But he didn’t care. _Harry’s safety is far more important._ Draco vaguely wondered how he could get the ministry’s attention, should he be able to get back to wherever Harry was… It was at that moment that a memory sparked and a plan began to form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT NOTE: This and the following chapters will include elements of non-con. If this is not something you're comfortable with, I'll make sure to put a chapter note at the beginning of each chapter that includes this.


	5. Injunction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm going to try to finish this one this month. I've completed my outline, so it shouldn't be too difficult. Famous last words, eh?
> 
> ADDITIONAL TAGS: Kidnapping, Non-consensual touching
> 
> Content warning in end notes

_“He spends all his time with Weasley and Granger.” Draco grumbled as he followed his father swiftly down Knockturn Alley. Last year Lucius had told him that the famous Harry Potter would be starting Hogwarts the same year as him, he’d reminded Draco that “having powerful friends is just as important as being in a position of power yourself.”_

_Draco had taken his very first opportunity to introduce himself to the famous boy, only to be immediately shot down. Harry had latched on to the very first person he met,_ Weasley, of course, _and who knows what that idiot had told him about Draco’s family. He hadn’t mentioned Potter to his parents in any of his letters all year, but once he got home it had been one of the first things Lucius asked._

_“Well, Draco.” He had asked as they walked briskly along the muggle train platform, “I hear there was quite a stir at the end of this term.”_

_Draco had known it was coming, but he still winced, “Yes. Potter and his friends broke just about every school rule and Professor Dumbledore took the house cup from us and gave it to the Gryffindors.”_

_Draco’s mother had scoffed, “That sounds like him. Completely disregard a whole year’s worth of work by one house for the foolhardy actions of a few of his favourites.”_

_“You weren’t one of those friends, were you Draco?”_

_Draco had looked up at his father, staring steadily ahead, “No. He’s a prat.”_

_“That may be, but what did we talk about before you left for school?” Lucius’ silver eyes gleamed with anger as he looked at his son._

_“I tried, Father. He hated me before classes even began. Potter won’t be famous for long. He’s rubbish in most of our classes. He and Weasley are like a pair of baboons with wands.”_

_Even now, several months later, Potter remained the favourite subject of Draco’s angry rants._

_“I just don’t see how the professors don’t see what a useless wizard he is. Both of them really.” He continued, as they passed several shops in Knockturn Alley._

_“In here, Draco.” His father, paused at the doorway to let Draco go first and Draco fell silent, opening the door with the clanging of the shop bell._

_Draco had been in here probably a dozen times before, the antique and powerful magical items strewn around the shop were fascinating and Draco was always begging his father for something from the shop._ Father doesn’t think I’m responsible enough to own a powerful artefact. _No sooner had Draco stepped through the door than he saw a beautiful glass eye in a case near the filthy fireplace. He despised the shop, and its owner. Borgin was a tall, slimy, simpering git. His father had told him that there were many who hadn’t joined the Dark Lord who were ashamed of that fact. They treated the Malfoy name with reverence, but Draco had heard them sneering behind their backs about loyalty and corruption, when everyone knew his parents had been clever enough to see the Dark Lord’s end approaching and had managed to secure a future for themselves and their son._

_“Touch nothing, Draco.”_

_Draco’s hand fell,_ I only wanted to hold it, _he thought bitterly. “I thought you were going to buy me a present.” He tried, hopefully._

_“I said I would buy you a racing broom.” Lucius repeated._

_They’d had this conversation before, Draco’s mother had asked Draco what he wanted as a present before returning to Hogwarts, his first thought had been, of course, a new broom._

_“What’s the good of that if I’m not on the House team? Harry Potter got a Nimbus Two Thousand last year. Special permission from Dumbledore so he could play for Gryffindor.” Draco continued, mumbling as he walked along the displays of random magical items, cursed artefacts and possessed trinkets. His eyes caught on a shelf filled with human skulls, “He’s not even that good, it’s just because he’s famous . . . famous for having a stupid scar on his forehead. Everyone thinks he’s so smart, wonderful Potter with his scar and his broomstick.”_

_Draco was just getting going. He’d managed to find any opportunity all summer to complain about the favouritism that Potter was shown, for no legitimate reason other than that he was famous._ And famous for something he did as a baby. He probably didn’t even do anything, he probably just managed to be there at the right moment. _Draco had given it a lot of thought over the past several months. He had grown up knowing Harry’s story. Everyone had. His parents had wondered if perhaps he was destined to be the next great leader. A truly gifted wizard who had innate powers so strong that even the Dark Lord couldn’t destroy him._ But that doesn’t fit at all with the inept Potter who can barely hold his wand the proper way.

 _““You have told me this at least a dozen times already,” Draco’s father chided him. “And I would remind you that it is not prudent to appear less than fond of Harry Potter, not when most of our kind regard him as the hero who made the Dark Lord disappear.” Draco knew he was right, but also,_ he doesn’t know Potter. _“Ah, Mr. Borgin.”_

 _Draco glanced up to see the tall, stooping wizard coming out of the back. Draco turned away, uninterested, as his father began to discuss business with Borgin._ If he’s already made up his mind, I’ll ask him to get me a Nimbus 2001. _Draco thought, looking absentmindedly at the strange things on shelves and in glass cabinets._ Or… _Draco’s eyes lit up,_ maybe I’ll ask if he’d be willing to donate them for the team. Then they’d have to let me try out, surely. Besides, the Gryffindors wouldn’t stand a chance against Slytherin if we were on 2001s. Even Potter’s 2000 would be no match! _He finally made a full circuit of the room, arriving back at the case with the glass eye. “Can I have that?” Draco asked, noticing a horrible-looking hand sat on a cushion and weighing whether or not he’d be able to make Pansy cry if he hid it in her trunk._ Probably easier to use to frighten Vince, _he thought._

_“Ah, the Hand of Glory!” Much to Draco’s dismay, the old shopkeeper came scuttling over to the case where he was stood. “Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best friend of thieves and plunderers! Your son has fine taste, sir.” He said over his shoulder to Draco’s father._

_“I hope my son will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer, Borgin,” Draco smiled, his father’s voice had taken on an icy tone. Men like Borgin never thought before they spoke and that was one of the things that his father loathed more than anything. Borgin hurriedly mumbled an apology, but Draco’s father continued, “Though if his grades don’t pick up,” said Mr. Malfoy, more coldly still, “that may indeed be all he’s fit for.”_

_Draco’s face fell, “It’s not my fault! The teachers all have favourites, that Hermione Granger-”_

_“I would have thought you’d be ashamed that a girl of no wizard family beat you in every exam.”_

_Draco felt his face reddening and he shut his mouth angrily. He hated it when his father did that. No matter how well Draco did, he was somehow also responsible for the actions of others around him. It was his fault that Potter was a prat, it was his fault that Granger got better marks… Angry, Draco went back to looking at things in the shop._ Potter didn’t even know he was magic. He was raised by Muggles, completely unaware of who he was… _Draco wondered what that would have been like. He tried to imagine life without a house elf, life without magic. Even though he was underage and couldn’t do magic himself, he was used to the comfort that magic provided._ What if my parents had been Muggles? _He knew his father would be furious if he knew what Draco was thinking,_ what if I had never heard of Hogwarts? _Draco thought about the boys his age he saw occasionally, dressed in their school clothes._ I wonder if they would be able to handle it, if they knew about us. _Draco knew that Muggles weren’t very smart. He was surprised, honestly, that muggle-borns ever did well at Hogwarts,_ it’s just not in their nature. _But Harry Potter had been raised by Muggles, and although he was a self-righteous prick, he wasn’t stupid. He was even a bit clever,_ sometimes. When he wasn’t just mindlessly acting the hero. _Draco wondered if they would’ve been friends, had things been different._ They act as though we’re a bunch of snobs, but if he’d been sorted into Slytherin there’s no way Weasley would’ve stuck by his side. _Draco wandered distractedly toward what looked like a noose, propped dramatically next to a beautiful opal necklace with a card warning against touching._ Potter wouldn’t have lasted a day in Slytherin, though. _He thought with a grin, turning toward a large, black cabinet._ The hat probably took so long because it was trying to suss out if he had any magic at all. _Before he could make an examination of the cabinet, his father’s voice rang through the shop. “Come, Draco.”_

_  
As they walked back into the Alley, Draco took a deep breath, “Father, I’ve had an idea about the racing broom-”_

 

_***_

Draco avoided the imposter’s eye as he pulled on his healer’s robes. The imposter had insisted on sleeping in the same bed, but hadn’t made any sort of move beyond that. He clearly enjoyed torturing Draco, but Draco couldn’t figure out to what end. _If it were a simple question of him wanting me, or of hating all Death Eaters, or of something I did to him personally…_ But Draco got the feeling it wasn’t any of those things. It seemed… _Deeper._ Like the imposter, whoever he was, had some strange combination of admiration and loathing for Draco. He mused on this as he finished getting dressed. He’d spent longer than strictly necessary in the toilet that morning, under the guise of taking a shower. Last night he’d mentioned that he needed to shower and the imposter had cheekily suggested that he’d be willing to join. It was just about all Draco could do to not punch him in the face. Draco knew his patience was wearing thin, _I have to start working to put my plan into place._ He knew it wasn’t a fully thought out plan, _not nearly enough to save Harry,_ but he also knew it was better than nothing, and that he wasn’t going to be able to keep the imposter happy for long. _Besides,_ he thought, _every second that Harry is under that makeshift potion the more likely it is that he won’t recover._ Sooner or later the imposter would get whatever it was he wanted- and Draco still didn’t know what that was.

“You want to grab a bite before work?” The imposter said, his head lolling onto his shoulder in an attempt to elongate his neck. Draco scoffed and turned quickly to the wardrobe to pull out a pair of socks. _I also don’t know how long I’ll be able to stand him tempting me like that._ Draco knew it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to drain the bastard dry. _A win-win._ But he lacked vital information. Was the accomplice watching all the time? If his accomplice had a job or fancied a night at the pub, Draco would be free to hurt the imposter all he liked. The trouble was, there was no way to tell if and when the accomplice was at the hut. _If I can figure out the accomplice’s schedule, the rest of the plan will fall into place._ Draco realised. Though he still had no idea how to go about that. _When I get home from work I’ll ask him if we can visit again. Perhaps try to set up a visiting schedule. Maybe he’ll give something away unintentionally._ Draco fastened his boots quickly, and straightened.

“Don’t leave me, Draco.” The imposter whinged. His moaning was interrupted by the harsh beeps of his muggle watch. Touching the small button at the side, the imposter reached into a pocket within the robes he’d slept in and pulled out a flask. “You know, Draco” he said, taking another gulp of the polyjuice, “You’ve been very distant. I’m not happy about that. We’ll have to discuss where this relationship is going.”

Draco shrugged, “once I get home.” And with that he swept out the door. _No sense in delaying the inevitable._ He sighed, _Anyway, I can put this time at the hospital to good use._

 

***

 

Draco’s boots echoed as he strode past the rows of wooden chairs in the large entryway. He waved cordially to the witch behind the INQUIRIES desk and took the stairs to the third floor. He pretended it was because he enjoyed the exercise, but the real reason he always took the stairs was twofold. First, the lift got terribly crowded at times and, although he had his instincts in check, he certainly didn’t want “The St. Mungo’s Lift Massacre” on his conscience. Second, the stairs were almost always deserted and he got a childlike pleasure out of the sound of his dragonhide boots clacking away on the marble stairs. He just rounding the second floor landing when a young healer from the epidemiological team stepped into the stairwell.

“Hiya, Draco.” She said with a smile. Draco had been assigned to her his first day, before he’d even met Healer Stewart. She’d shown him around and let him follow her most of the day so he could get an idea of what the second floor was like.

“Hello, Katy.” He greeted her warmly. “You headed home?”

“Yeah, I’ve been on nights for a week now.” she sighed, “Looking forward to a mid-morning pint.” she giggled and Draco couldn’t help but smile.

“Hey, I’ve got a bit of an odd question.” Draco said softly and Katy leaned in, apprehensively, “I’ve got a complicated potion that needs brewing, who do you suggest I talk to?”

“From what I hear, you’re one of our best potion makers- if it’s something you can’t manage…” she looked sceptical. “What is it?”

Draco shook his head, “I’m afraid I can’t say,” he’d come up with his cover story the night before, “It’s for a Ministry contact. Need-to-know, I’m afraid.”

Everyone knew he was with the top auror in MLE, and Katy was obviously no exception. She nodded solemnly, “Gosh, that’s a tough question. I assume you’d know everyone on the third floor, that’s the obvious place to look, but you might try Zara? I don’t remember her last name. Up on four? She works the same shifts I do usually, she's on all day today, though. Poor dear, she swapped with McMasters so he could visit his mum in Leeds. Anyway, she’s quite talented.” Draco nodded, he knew who she was talking about.

“Ta, Katy!”

Katy nodded, “Good luck, Draco!” and was off down the stairs.

Draco watched her go. He hoped his cover story wouldn’t raise too many suspicions. Anyone reasonable would assume it was a request from Harry, which shouldn’t raise any suspicions, since as far as Draco knew, no one knew he was missing. He considered going straight to the fourth floor, but he knew he’d have a chance later, _perhaps I’ll offer to take her for a coffee at lunch_.

Draco walked up the last flight and pushed opened the doors to door to find the Saleem Sirpitus Ward bustling with activity. Draco took a deep and wholly unnecessary breath before diving back into work as if nothing at all were wrong.  
It wasn’t until half one when Draco finally got a moment to pop up to the fourth floor. Sure enough, Zara, the tall witch with short hair and a boisterous attitude, was standing beside the bed closest to the door. The bed itself was hidden from view, but she was standing well back as a thick, white smoke was billowing out under the curtains. She had her wand drawn and seemed to be trying a variety of countermeasures. As Draco stood watching, several more healers rushed over, wands drawn with looks of exasperation that told quite plainly that this was an ongoing problem. Draco wondered what the patient looked like, _where is the smoke coming from?_ but he certainly knew better than to ask.

After a few minutes, and as the whole room began to fill with a foggy haze, Zara rolled up her sleeves and pushed the curtain aside, “ _ventilo_ ” and after several seconds, the smoke surrounding the patient had cleared, as well as most of the haze in the ward. To Draco’s surprise, the patient seemed to be an infant child, his cot now visible as the smoke dissipated. Draco smiled wryly as Zara closed the curtains again and caught sight of him.

“He doesn’t seem to do it when he’s sleeping, but we haven’t figured out whether or not it’s voluntary…” Her tone had taken on a quality as if she were explaining a riddle, as she walked over to where Draco was standing, “Alright, Draco? What brings you up here?”

Draco shook her hand, “Do you have a minute?”

“‘Course. Anytime for you, sweetie.” She said with a playful wink. Draco’s smile faded slightly. Since he and Harry had made their relationship public, quite a few women had taken to making comments like that. He might not have minded except that he’d never much cared for chat up lines or anything like that. _I hardly even know her._ “I’ve been told you’re quite a good potion maker.” He said, casually steering her toward the ward office, which was the closest spot he suspected they could talk without being overheard.

“The way I hear it, you’re one of the best we have… You looking to start a soc?” She chuckled and he closed the door behind her.

“Not quite. I’m looking for someone willing to brew a complex potion.”

Zara’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, “This isn’t for work, is it?”

Draco shook his head, “It’s for a Ministry contact.” He glanced out the window at the other healers who were checking on their patients after the smoking child incident.

“The Ministry don’t have their own potionmasters?” Zara asked, sounding sceptical.

“If you don’t feel comfortable…” but Zara waived her hand impatiently.

“I don’t mind. Bit strange, though, you have to admit.”

Draco shrugged noncommittally. _She’s clever. Hope she’s as good a potion master as she is detective…_

“So what is it that I’m brewing for you?” She asked, propping her feet up on the desk, showing off fantastic grey boots made of something Draco thought looked eerily like Mermaid skin.

“It’s a straightforward wiggenweld potion, although there’s been some modification to the original draught. I’m not sure to what extent.”

Zara’s brows knit together and Draco wondered briefly what she was thinking, “That’s a tricky one, Malfoy. I’m not sure… It can go terribly wrong, especially if the draught has been meddled with.” She ran her fingers carelessly through her hair, her Norfolk accent thick as she mumbled to herself, “Probably wouldn’t manage to do any lasting damage… even if it wasn’t strong enough. As long as the person administering it knows what they’re doing…” Finally, she nodded. “I’ll give it a go.”

Draco smiled, “Thank you! I really appreciate your help.”

“When do you need it done?”

Draco thought about his answer for a minute, “Can I let you know tomorrow?”

She shrugged, “I don’t mind. Just let me know.”

The grateful look Draco gave her was fleeting, he’d gotten what he came for. “Thanks, Zara. I’ll let you know.” He stood, "Are you here tomorrow? Katy said something about you changing shifts?" 

"Oh you spoke to Katy? Yeah, I took McMaster's shift today. I came in around noon. Work an 8 today and then a 12 tomorrow. I'll be knackered by the end of it." Draco chuckled, not interested in the details, as long as he could chat with further her tomorrow. 

He was almost out the door when her voice stopped him, “Am I the first person you asked?” she sounded nonchalant, but Draco was quite sure he recognized that casual question, weighing the amount of gloating that could be done.

“Not the first. But clearly the best.” He said with a smile and he was gone.

 

As he hurried downstairs again he wondered again if he was making a mistake. _There’s no way for him to find out what I’m planning. Besides, if I want to have any hope of rousing Harry I’ll need the potion. It’s not as if he wouldn’t notice me brewing it myself._ Draco had stayed up half the night trying to formulate his plan. He knew he would need to wait a bit longer, but by week’s end he should be close to being able to carry out his rescue plan.

 

The rest of his shift was uneventful. He had been working for several weeks on cataloguing a series of blood borne pathogens that seemed to be mutating when the host performed even the simplest spells, causing terrible pain and debilitating tremors. When Healer Stewart finally thanked him for his time, Draco was anxious to get home. He’d been wondering all day whether or not the imposter would go into the Ministry in Harry’s stead. He supposed he’d find out when he got home.

The queue for the floo network felt longer than usual, but he finally grabbed a pinch of the glittering dust and threw it into the flames. “Number 12 Grimmauld Place”. His voice was clear and he shut his eyes tight, elbows tucked into his side as he felt the whooshing of the fireplaces zooming past. He opened his eyes as he stepped out at his own stop. He scarcely had time to register what he was seeing before he was lying flat on the ground, a terrible throbbing pain in his cheek. Disoriented, Draco raised his head again, but once more was struck, hard, across the face. He felt his fangs lengthening, but the imposter struck him again, so hard this time that he saw stars.

“You think there’s anything that goes on with you that I don’t know about?” he spat, and Draco tried, in vain, to dodge another blow.

“You think you can try to undermine me and I won’t find out?” the imposter’s voice was cold and as un-Harry-like as Draco had heard it. It was hard to imagine Harry's body even capable of making those sounds. “Well, you’ll find out soon enough. _Crucio!_ ”

Draco didn’t have time to brace himself, crying out with pain, he felt as though someone were cutting all of his sinew, as if they were peeling the flesh from his body… he screamed and screamed and wished desperately that his muggle neighbours could hear him. When the imposter finally lowered his wand, Draco was sobbing on the rug. He wished he were the one unconscious in that hut. _Harry’d know how to save me,_ he thought ruefully. _What did I do?_ He wondered, as the imposter knelt next to him.

He stroked Draco’s hair lovingly and it was everything Draco could do not to pull away. “I let you go back to work because you promised you would behave yourself. Asking around for someone to make you the antidote is _not_ behaving yourself.” Draco’s mind felt as though it had short-circuited. _Zara._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT NOTE: This and the following chapters will include elements of non-con. If this is not something you're comfortable with, I'll make sure to put a chapter note at the beginning of each chapter that includes this.


	6. Evidence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it's taken me so long. I don't even want to say I'll try to finish it this month, but I will. I'm so sorry. I'm the worst. 
> 
> ADDITIONAL TAGS: Kidnapping, Non-consensual touching
> 
> Content warning in end notes

_Draco took the steps down to the dungeon two at a time. His steps echoed on the cold stone, yet they were barely audible over his heavy breathing. He’d nearly run into Harry when he stopped abruptly at the edge of the clearing. Draco shivered as he remembered the beautiful creature’s lifeless body splayed out unnaturally on the ground… and whoever it was that came after, bent over the beast to drink its blood._ It had to have been a vampire, _Draco thought,_ nothing else would do something so awful! _He gasped out the password (“Myrddin”) and stumbled through the door that appeared. The common room was predictably empty and Draco stood, panting, with his back against the stone wall, wondering if he would be able to sleep._ What if they claim I didn’t complete my detention? Surely, I wouldn’t be expelled for something that was clearly not my fault! If that halfwit hadn’t dragged us into the forest, and not even stayed with us...! _Draco knew his father would do everything in his considerable power to ensure Draco suffered no consequences following his untimely departure from that oaf’s ill-conceived detention. He looked back at the corridor leading to the boy’s dormitory and sunk into a chair. He wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight, so there was hardly any use lying in bed and listening to Greg snore. He watched the dark water of the lake lazily, occasionally catching a glimpse of something swimming past. He’d always found the gentle sounds of the lake above comforting and now as he wrapped himself in a dark grey knitted throw he’d pulled from the back of the armchair, he felt his adrenaline begin to subside. He imagined that Potter and Granger were probably having a good laugh at him right now, but he didn’t care._ That’s assuming whatever that was didn’t finish them off… _he contemplated that thought,_ how would I feel if Harry Potter were killed? _He wasn’t sure. He certainly didn’t_ like _Potter, but he had to admit Potter gave Draco’s life a certain sense of purpose._

_Draco was still lost in these thoughts when the fireplace roared to life. Jumping out of his chair, wand drawn, Draco found himself face-to-face with a startled Nott. Theodore was holding a stack of books, and Draco relaxed, “What are you doing up, Theo?”_

_Theo shrugged, “Couldn’t sleep.” He set the books down on one of the tables by the fire he’d lit and stared at Draco with undisguised curiosity. He and Draco had always gotten along. Their fathers were old friends and he’d visited the manor several times, one of only a handful of Draco’s classmates to see him outside of school. “We started to wonder if you were coming back.” Theo said with a chuckle._

_Draco averted his eyes, not eager to talk about what he’d just experienced in the forest. “I told you I had detention.”_

_Theo shrugged again, his expression unreadable, “With Potter.”_

_Draco didn’t like the direction this conversation was going. “We went into the forest.” Draco said shortly, unable to suppress a shudder, “it was awful” he whispered.  Before he could stop himself, Draco was telling Theo everything that had happened that night. Theo was always a good audience, he laughed as Draco told him about sneaking up on Longbottom, but went pale when Draco described the unicorn lying on the ground._

_“And you think it was a vampire?” He asked anxiously._

_“Must’ve been,” Draco reasoned, “what else would drink its blood?”_

_“Are you sure it wasn’t just eating it?” Theo asked, grabbing one of the books out of the stack beside him._

_“I’m sure. Something about the way it bent down… it was eerie.” He repressed another shudder._

_Theo flipped through the book in front of him, stopping occasionally to read a passage._

_Finally, “Found it!” Draco leaned in close as Theo read aloud, “One of the most ancient and brutal of magics is the harvesting of the blood of the unicorn. While unicorn blood has many unique magical properties, it is also commonly believed to be cursed. In part due to the superstition surrounding the substance, there are few accounts of unicorn blood being widely used in potion making. However, it has been documented that unicorn blood is uniquely capable of sustaining and prolonging life. For many, unicorn blood is seen as a last resort to extend life, and it is frequently cited as one of the most potent magical substances.”_

_Draco looked up at Theo whose brows were knit together. “So, whatever it was… it was dying…”_

_Draco couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness at those words and he shook his head. “It was a monster. Dying or not, it was horrid. And it killed the unicorn slowly... painfully.” Draco felt tears welling up behind his eyes and turned away quickly. “I think I’ll go to bed.” He looked at the pile of books, “You’re doing homework?”_

_Theo shrugged again, pulling a folded parchment out of one of the books. “I suppose… I couldn’t sleep.”_

_Draco could hear Theo flipping through his books in the common room as Draco made his way down the corridor to his dormitory. Blaise was sitting up on his four poster, waiting for Draco to come back. He nodded to the other boy as he shed his robes. He wondered if Blaise was going to press him for details about what had happened, but the boy just stared, motionless as Draco finished changing into his Pyjamas. Draco was too exhausted to worry about what Blaise was thinking,_ it’s been a long night. _He fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow and he dreamed fitfully of hooded figures and silver pools of blood._

 

Draco’s entire body was shaking. The imposter wouldn’t stop. The cruciatus curse had ended, but the torture was far from over, _Zara’s the accomplice. She must be. She’s the only one who knew what he was looking for!_ The thought managed to ground him, to comfort him despite the pain. He considered briefly that it could’ve been Katy, extrapolating from what he told her, but he remembered Zara’s question as they parted, “Am I the first person you asked?” _She was checking to make sure I couldn’t trace it back to her. Then she went and told him as soon as I was gone._ He knew it was her. He had heard her heartbeat, steady, but quick. He’d assumed it was due to the unusual patient she’d just seen to, but now he knew it was more than that.

The imposter was knelt next to Draco, stroking his hair gently even as he whispered the curse again, _“crucio!”_  Draco felt helpless as he screamed in pain. He didn’t feel pain the same way he had as a human. He’d never considered himself particularly strong, he relied primarily on his wits to get him out of situations that might cause him undue pain. However, now his senses were all heightened. He felt every second as if it were an eternity. The curse wouldn’t kill him; Draco was keenly aware of that fact. This monster who was wearing Harry’s face could torture him far beyond what a human could endure. He’d shrivel into nothingness, but he’d be perfectly capable of being revived. All he needed was blood. _His blood._ The pain that was shooting through his veins, like a scalpel slicing up his insides, was arousing a bloodlust in him that he knew was the vampire instinct of fight or flight. The imposter lowered his wand and Draco gasped as the pain ended. His fangs ached to tear into the imposter.

“You know what I think, Draco?” The imposter’s voice was clear and sounded disappointed more than anything else. “I think you are trying to test me.”

Draco didn’t look at him, _think whatever you’d like._

“I think you went asking around the hospital wondering how far my reach extends. I think you were baiting me.” He continued stroking Draco’s hair, as if he were not the one causing the pain that Draco had been suffering. “And you know what?” he whispered into Draco’s ear, causing a shiver to run down his spine, “I think I like it.”

Draco tried to shake him off, wishing his limbs would stop shaking, wishing he was back at the Blind Pig with Harry, Hermione, and Ron. He snarled as the imposter laughed at his attempts to escape.

“You’re not going anywhere, Draco.” He said with a laugh, cold and unlike anything Harry could ever manage, “Except perhaps the bedroom.”

Draco’s eyes widened. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he gasped.

The imposter laughed above him and Draco felt another blow, heavier this time, land on the back of his head. “It’s getting late, but I’ll let them know you won’t be in tomorrow morning. I’m not sure you’ll be in any state to go into work.” The imposter stood and Draco’s vision blurred. _Zara will be getting off soon, but she’ll be at work all day tomorrow. Out of the way._ He felt the imposter heaving him to his feet, but he stubbornly refused to stand. Grunting with the effort, the imposter dragged him a few feet toward the foyer, but Draco whipped around as fast as his spinning head would allow, drawing his wand and aiming a curse half-heartedly. He hit the ground hard as the imposter let go, ducking under the red sparks and Draco saw his boot moving toward his face as if in slow motion. He heard his wand clatter to the floor and a second later, everything went dark.

 

***

Draco had no idea how long he’d been unconscious. His body was aching and he wondered if Harry would let him drain the imposter once he’d rescued him. An odd tugging sensation at his waist snapped him into consciousness and he opened his eyes to find himself on the floor of the library in Malfoy Manor. _How the hell did we get here?_ His eyes darted about before settling on the imposter, who knelt beside him, slowly working his trousers down. Draco gasped and kicked out violently. He caught the imposter’s knee, but it was a glancing blow. To his chagrin the imposter chuckled, “Now, Draco. Let’s not be rash.”

Draco glared at him, “Get your hands off me, freak!”

“Freak?” The imposter’s grin widened and Draco looked away. _I can’t see that on Harry’s face. I can’t do it._ “I think we know which of us is a freak, don’t we?” Draco kicked again, wiggling his way out of the imposter’s grasp. “I could incapacitate you, you know.” The imposter’s voice was threatening, but for the first time since he’d shown Draco Harry’s unconscious body, Draco didn’t feel afraid. “I could body bind you, or there’s always the imperious curse. Then you could participate. I know how much you loathe passivity.”

Draco shook his head, “What would you do if you had one night to live?”

The imposter hesitated, his hands back on the waistband of Draco’s trousers. “Is that a threat, Malfoy?”

“Just a question.” Draco said innocently.

The imposter didn’t answer, but neither did he finish undressing Draco. Instead he stood, grabbing his wand from within his robes. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, Draco.” He walked around Draco who quickly pulled his trousers back up, buckling his belt without breaking the other’s eye contact. “You’re just like your father.”

Draco froze. _That’s new._ He had been searching for some link. Some reason to think this man even knew who he was. _He knows my father. He loathes him._ Draco smiled to himself, _There’s finally a connection._ “I am. Perhaps not as practiced as he is.” He needed to draw out more information, _and to keep him distracted. The longer I can make him talk, the longer I have to solidify my plan._

The imposter shrugged, “You’re not as bad as he is. You care about people.” He averted his eyes and Draco sat up, sneaking a quick glance around the library. “The wrong people, of course, but you still have some sense of loyalty.” Draco’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. _My father betrayed him._

“Depends on who is demanding my loyalty.” Draco said with a coy smile.

The imposter continued as if he hadn’t heard Draco, “of course, now you’re a monster _and_ Potter’s lapdog.”

“You didn’t seem to think I was a monster when you were offering me your neck.” Draco chided, “You were begging me to drink from you.”

“And you did.” The imposter reminded him.

Draco’s jaw tightened, “You didn’t leave me any choice. If I would have let you die, your _associate_ would have killed Harry.”

“It wouldn’t be so bad.” The imposter mused.

Draco looked at him, confused, “if I’d let you die?”

“Not me. If Potter died.” He spoke as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Once you were out from under his spell you could go back to being who you really are!”

“And who am I?” Draco hissed. “You know me so well? Tell me, who am I?”

“You’re like a prince. Even now, with all that’s happened to you. You could be far more powerful than your father ever was. Even with your affliction. You have the right bloodline, the right family tree. The Dark Lord chose you as one of his own. He marked you!” The imposter took a step forward and yanked Draco’s arm up, pulling back his sleeve to show the Dark Mark. His eyes were fixated on it, and Draco watched him stare at it, not even thinking about pulling his arm away. When he spoke again, the imposter sounded reverent. “He may be gone, but this proves how much he trusted you.”

Draco’s voice was cold as he finally pulled his arm back, “He marked me to punish my father for his failures. He never trusted me. He set me on an impossible mission, one doomed to fail and then abandoned me and my family.”

“That’s not how I hear it.”

“I don’t care how you hear it. He’s dead and he was a fool. An evil fool.” Draco got to his feet, feeling the aches in his gums that reminded him to take a breath. “What would you know about it?”

The imposter shook his head, suddenly smiling. “You’re not going to trick me, Draco. I know your tricks. You say you’re not as practiced at deceit as your father, but I beg to differ. We all follow in our fathers’ footsteps unless we choose not to repeat their mistakes. I won’t repeat the mistakes of my father.”

Before Draco could react, the imposter raised his wand and stuck Draco with a curse that threw him across the room. He hit one of the bookshelves hard and heard the thudding of books hitting the floor all around him. He gasped as his fangs lengthened and he fought against the urge to throw himself on the imposter. He heard a faint chime from the foyer and smiled, _four more hours. In four hours Zara will go back to St. Mungo's. In four hours I can make my move._ He only had to keep his head until then. _Can’t let him know you’re onto Zara, can’t let him know you have a plan._ If he could manage both those things, whatever else happened in the next four hours wouldn’t matter.

His body felt exhilarated as he stood, not caring that his fangs were visible. Not caring that he probably looked mad. “You think you could beat me if the circumstances were fair?”

“They’re not.” The imposter smiled, “You let yourself grow attached. A weakness.”

Draco shook his head, “You’re an idiot.”

The imposter glared, “I’ll knock you out again.” He threatened, “I’m getting quite good at it.”

“Go on then. I never thought I’d be so repulsed to see Harry’s face. When it’s you wearing it it’s unbearable.”

The imposter strode forward again, he pressed the tip of his wand against Draco’s throat. “Don’t test my patience, Malfoy!”

Draco laughed, watching the imposter grow increasingly irritated as Draco leant into the wand tip, feeling it press painfully against his trachea. “You’re losing control, what will you do if I resist?”

“We’ll kill Harry.”

Draco shook his head, “Another week with you and I might not care anymore. Who’s to say he can even be revived. No one I spoke to today had any brilliant ideas.”

The imposter smiled smugly, “So you admit it? It sounds like you’re the one losing control.”

Draco tilted his head back, opening his mouth just far enough that his fangs were visible, “You think?”

Draco heard the imposter’s heartbeat quicken. “Let’s make a deal. You drink from me, I won’t make you do anything else.”

“I don’t think you’ll be able to keep your end of that deal.”

“Here’s the alternative. You drink from me _and_ I enchant you into becoming a willing participant in _whatever_ happens after that.” His words left no room for interpretation. Draco could be imperiused and forced, or he could take his chances. _Perhaps I could take enough to weaken him._

Draco hesitated a moment longer, humiliated by the prospect of either option, but he finally nodded. He didn’t see much of a choice. _Four hours._

 

The imposter took his hand, ignoring his hesitation, and led him forcefully toward the stairs, “Why not do it here?” Draco asked, knowing it was a lost cause.

“I’d prefer to be comfortable. Besides, I’m the one calling the shots, if you haven’t noticed.”

Draco glared, but let himself be led upstairs. Every step he wondered what his life would be like when he finally got Harry back. Would he tell his lover everything that had happened? Would he even want to know?

_The worst part about all of this is that he’s just a human. A weak, pathetic human,_ Draco thought ruefully. _Clever, though. He wanted to torture me and live, and he knew he’d need good leverage to keep me from killing him immediately._

The imposter pushed open the door to his childhood bedroom and turned to Draco expectantly. “Your shirt, Draco. Please.”

Draco began to unbutton his shirt, “Why did you bring me back to the manor?” His fingers moved slowly, _four hours._ “Grimmauld Place not good enough for you?”

The imposter sat on the bed, watching Draco eagerly, “Grimmauld Place isn’t your home. This is.”

Draco shook his head, pretending to struggle with one of the buttons about halfway down his shirt, “Grimmauld Place has been in my family for generations.”

The imposter’s gaze flicked up to Draco’s eyes, “It’s _his_ now.”

“Can’t say his name?” Draco’s hands stilled and the imposter shot him a glare.

“Carry on, Draco.”

“You know, it wouldn’t kill me to know who you are.” Draco kept his voice soft and level, resuming his slow striptease.

“Not yet.” The imposter’s voice was husky, Draco knew he was having a profound effect.

“It’s ironic, really. You want me to forget about Harry, but here you are, disguised as him, making sure I think about him constantly.” Draco’s expression was unreadable, “making me miss him.”

“You won’t miss him for long.”

“I don’t know.” Draco shrugged, undoing the last button, “He has a way of getting into your head.”

The imposter scoffed, “He’s a show off. Always has been. He didn’t deserve all the fame, all the obsessive hero worship.”

Draco glanced to his right, taking a long hard look at the bathroom mirror. Instead of upsetting him, he took an odd comfort from the lack of reflection. Almost as if this wasn’t happening.

“Your shirt, Draco.”

Draco kept his expression neutral as he shrugged his shirt off his shoulders. Without waiting for the next order, he turned his back to the imposter, opening the door and selecting a hanger from the strangely empty wardrobe in his bedroom. He took his time smoothing out his shirt, working the hanger into the sleeves and replacing it on the bar. He closed the wardrobe door and turned back to the imposter.

“Go on, Draco.”

Draco shook his head, “Our deal was I drink from you, and you don’t force me to do anything else. I intend to hold you to that.”

“You don’t have a lot of choice in the matter, Draco.”

Draco grinned, he saw the imposter’s smile falter, “See, that’s where you’re wrong. If you were going to force me, you would have done it by now. No,” he said with a small shake of his head, “you want me to give myself to you willingly. It’s not going to happen tonight. Frankly, I don’t see if ever happening, but if you force me tonight, I can absolutely guarantee that you will _never_ have me of my own free will.”

The imposter hesitated a second longer than was necessary and Draco knew his gamble had paid off. _He needs me to want him._ “You _will_ drink from me.” The imposter said firmly.

Draco shrugged, “I’ll feed from you. I don’t want to, but I’ll do it.”

“You’re doing it because I told you to.” The imposter emphasized.

“I’m doing it because refusing would risk Harry’s life.” Draco didn’t break eye contact. _You’re pushing it, Draco. Don’t antagonize him now._

The imposter’s eyes narrowed, but he shook his head, “Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

 

***

 

Draco was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand when he heard the clock chime below. _It’s time._ The imposter had managed to keep his word, content to rut against Draco’s leg while Draco drank far more than was strictly necessary, hoping to weaken his opponent to the point that he wouldn’t be tempted to renege on his promise. Draco’s fangs receded into his gums as the imposter sighed heavily. He was still wearing his trousers, but even without his heightened sense of smell Draco could smell the semen drying inside his pants. Draco suppressed a shudder and edged away from the body next to his.

“Awfully cold, Draco.”

Draco did not care, he rolled over so that his back was to the imposter and tried not to think about how much he missed Harry. _Even when we were arch enemies he never_ enjoyed _making me suffer._ Draco stopped breathing entirely, focusing his energy on listening to the subtle upticks in the imposter’s heart rate. _He’s agitated,_ Draco thought, _I just need a moment’s lapse._

“Fine.” The imposter’s voice was cold and Draco felt the bed shift as he sat up, displeased. “You’ll soon come round, Draco.”

Draco didn’t respond, lying as still as death with his back to the bastard wearing his lover’s face.

The imposter stood, and Draco heard him open the door softly, his feet padding softly down the corridor as he went to fetch some clean clothes.

 

Draco didn’t dare waste a moment. He jumped to his feet, eyes darting about frantically for where the imposter had stowed his wand. _It’s not in here. He’s left it downstairs, or perhaps he’s taken it with him._ Draco began to shake, _he’s just a human. I could overpower him easily,_ but he knew better, _if I kill him I’ll never learn where Harry is. Zara is in hospital all day, but she could check in over lunch, possibly even sooner._ There was, he knew, the possibility that she would call out of work today. She might suspect that he figured it out. She might be watching at this very minute. Draco knew he couldn’t risk taking his time. He needed his wand and he needed it fast. After a minute of frantically searching high and low in the bedroom he finally spotted it through the doorway, it was lain on the bathroom counter. _Idiot._ Draco had just reached the bathroom door when he heard footsteps behind him. Without a second’s hesitation, Draco dove for his wand, falling hard against the cabinets as he spun around. The imposter was stood in the doorway, shirtless and wearing a fresh set of trousers, with a shocked expression and his wand raised. Together their combined voices boomed in the empty house.

_“Crucio!”_

_“Imperio!”_

The pain ripped through Draco once more as he dropped his wand, his hands clutching uselessly at the tiled floor. After several excruciating seconds, he finally managed to grit his teeth and shout, “Stop!”

Without warning, the curse was ended and he slumped to the floor, exhausted. He lay there for a moment before raising his head. _It worked!_ The imposter stood motionless, his expression blank as Draco gathered up his wand and checked the clock on the wall, _Half five_. He was certain Zara would be back at the hospital now, but he couldn’t risk being wrong. It was time to go back, whether or not she was there. If it came to it, he’d overpower them both. They couldn’t kill Harry if he killed them first. _Of course, I would have to figure out the antidote myself, not impossible, but not ideal._ Draco knew it wasn’t his best option, but it was an option nevertheless.

“Take me to Harry Potter.” he commanded as he got to his feet. The imposter held out his arm and Draco took it without hesitation as the familiar squeezing sensation of side-along apparition overtook his body.

Draco stumbled forward, letting his eyes scan the room as quickly as possible, checking for danger. His heart leapt to see Harry still unconscious, but unhurt. He needed three things, but he wasn’t sure what order in which to seek them out. Finally, he made up his mind, striding resolutely past the imposter he flung open the door to the small hut and found himself in a grassy glen. He took little notice of his surroundings, instead, he raised his wand and, repressing a shudder, shouted “ _Morsmordre!”_

The sparkling green light flew from his wand tip toward the sky, twisting in horrible tendrils as it looped itself into the shape of the Dark Mark. _That should bring a fair number of aurors._ He mused, and hurried back inside where the imposter was still stood, motionless without a command to follow. Draco felt a flutter in his stomach at the realization that this bastard would do whatever he commanded. He wondered whether it would feel better to give the order for him to kill himself or to sink his fangs into his neck. He imagined they’d both be equally pleasant, but that wasn’t the plan. He took a step toward the imposter, “Tell me your name.” He said softly, his tone icy and cruel.

“Theodore Reginald Nott.”

Draco froze. _Nott?_ He had never been particularly close with the boy, but they’d nevertheless spent countless hours together at school. _Why?_ But there wasn’t time for that. Not yet.

“How do I brew the antidote?” He asked, his voice quivering slightly as he shot a glance at Harry’s pale body.

Nott described the necessary changes to the wiggenweld potion that would account for the changes in the original draught. He spoke with a monotone voice and Draco took out a small muggle notepad and made note of the amounts of each ingredient. _Can’t risk forgetting a single detail._ He closed the notebooks and took another step toward Nott.

_BOOM_!

Draco was thrown to the ground and he felt Nott land heavily on his leg. All around them the hut shook and lights from stunning spells ricocheted off every surface. Panicked, Draco freed his leg and crawled to Harry’s cot. Draping himself over his lover’s body, lest one of these idiots hit him with one of their spells.

“You’re surrounded!” A voice shouted and Draco raised his head a few inches. “On your feet!” The auror commanded and Draco stood slowly, turning as he rose.

“Not a step, Malfoy!” Draco recognized him as one of the aurors whom Harry spoke of with disdain. “Drop your wand!”

Draco did as he was bid and the auror rushed to Nott’s side, obviously unaware that he was not the real Harry.

“Potter?” He looked in confusion at the blank expression on the face in front of him.

With a sigh, and unwilling to end the unforgivable curse, Draco cleared his throat, “Stand up and raise your arms.” His voice was clear and sounded almost bored and he smiled to himself that he could still command a certain haughtiness that came in handy from time to time. Several other aurors who had been stood outside the door stepped inside at this point and the auror, _Blinkly?_ Draco tried to remember his name, turned to him quickly, wand aimed at his chest.

“He’s imperiused?”

Draco nodded.

Blinkly looked at him with horror, “What are you playing at, Malfoy?” Draco raised his arms in a gesture of peace and stepped to the side, no longer impeding the aurors’ view of Harry lying on the cot.

They all exchanged glances with one another, but Draco ignored them, turning instead to the man under his control, “Tell them who you are and why we’re here.”

Then, in that same dull monotone voice, he spoke, “My name is Theodore Reginald Nott. We are here because Draco came to rescue Harry Potter.”  
“And where is the real Harry Potter?” Draco asked coldly.

Nott pointed and the aurors exchanged another glance.

“You will answer the auror’s questions.” Draco instructed, turning back to Harry and kneeling beside him. “In the meantime,” he barked at the aurors, “ summon a potion maker. They need start on the antidote. I have the instructions Nott has so kindly revealed.”  

“Not so fast, Malfoy”. The auror glared at him, “You can’t just go around using unforgivable curses!”

Draco stood so suddenly that all but one of the aurors took a cautious step back. “I don’t give a damn about ministry rules right now. It’s a miracle, frankly, that I haven’t killed him myself. He’s been impersonating Harry for days, holding me hostage in our home, torturing me,” Draco stopped to calm himself, “You think I care about a slap on the wrist for using an unforgivable curse? I just saved your best auror.” He sank back down to his knees and gently ran his fingers through Harry’s hair. It was unkempt and unwashed, but Draco thought he’d never looked so beautiful.

The cracking sound of more aurors arriving outside tore him from his stupor. The sound of a familiar voice calling out orders outside made his heart skip- _Hermione!_

“Who conjured it!” She asked briskly, wand raised as she strode into the hut.

“Stand back Minister!” the idiot auror said quickly. Hermione took in the scene before her. Harry was standing shirtless and dazed in front of the aurors, who had their wands trained on him. Draco was knelt on the floor near a cot, also shirtless, and yet _another_ Harry was lain on the cot, naked and pale. “Malfoy here is a vampire _and_ a former Death Eater, you’d best keep your distance. Draco met Hermione’s eye and for a second he thought she was about to laugh.

“We’ve met. I hardly think  I need to remind you that I’ve been taking on Death Eaters since school.” The auror flushed and looked away quickly. “Has anyone,” Hermione continued, “Taken any sort of comprehensive statement from anyone in this room?”

A few of the aurors muttered something and Hermione rounded on them, “Right, your first task is to get the Dark Mark out of the sky. We needn’t cause undue panic.” Hermione turned to Draco, “You sent up the Mark, I assume?” Draco nodded. “Fine. We’ll need to question each of them separately. Honestly, I shouldn’t need to tell you how to do your jobs.” She looked back and forth between the two Harrys. “Is the Imperious Curse your doing, Malfoy?” She said, giving him a stern look. He nodded again and she sighed, “You’ll have to lift it. The Ministry no longer considers interviews under imperius or veritaserum admissible. I don’t know what’s going on here, but we can handle him.” She looked beyond Draco to the cot, “And what is going on here?”

Draco stood, and every wand in the place turned on him. Rolling his eyes, he stepped forward and handed Hermione the notes he’d taken on the modified potion.

“This is a wiggenweld modification?” She said, her eyes scanning over the scrap of paper. Draco nodded again.

“Get someone to work on this right away.” She handed the paper to a female auror standing near the door. “I’ll need that as soon as possible. Get someone from St. Mungo’s.”

“No!” She turned to look at Draco who was shaking his head violently. “Go through the Ministry. You have your own potion makers.” Hermione looked at him and he could tell she was weighing her options. She trusted him, he knew she did, but she had no idea what was going on and whether or not her trust had been misplaced. “Hermione, please.”

She nodded curtly. “Someone from the Ministry, then.”

The auror nodded and vanished. The auror who’d arrived first was still glaring at Malfoy, “And what about _him,_ Minister?” He said, with so much spite in his voice Draco had to restrain himself from giving him a fanged smile.

“ _He_ will be speaking with myself and Donahue. Plinkley- you, McMillan and Keats-Warbling can speak to that subject there. Once this one is revived we’ll interview him as well.”

Plinkley glowered at Draco a moment more before Draco nodded, “Just call us if you need any help.”

“I’ll be sure to do that.” Hermione said dryly. She reached to the floor and gently handed Draco’s wand back to him, “End the curse, Draco” she muttered softly. He nodded and flicked his wand, watching awareness return to Nott’s eyes.

The three aurors Hermione had named dragged him from the room, ignoring his protests, although Draco suspected they still believed him to be Harry. “You should be in there with them, Hermione.” Draco said darkly, “They won’t know it’s not him.”

Hermione took his wand from him once more and sat down opposite him, “I’ll go in there after we’ve finished. Who is it, then? If it’s not Harry.”

“Nott.” Draco said with a sigh.

“Nott?” Hermione’s brow furrowed, “Theodore Nott from our year?”

“That’s right.”

“You’ll have to tell me what happened, from the beginning.” Beside her, the other auror, Donahue, stood stoically as Draco began to tell his story. Hermione was a good audience. She listened closely, her eyes narrow and face rapt with concentration as Draco told her about Harry’s disappearance, about how it was already Nott when she visited that first night. About how he’d convinced Draco that Harry was in danger, and about how he spent days planning how best to get him to reveal his identity and the antidote. Draco left out all mention of an accomplice.

Hermione sat back as he described setting the Dark Mark to ensure aurors arrived quickly, and how he took down the antidote before they arrived. “So you never thought to call us?”

Draco glared at her, he knew without telling her about the accomplice the story had holes, _my best hope in filling those holes is that they believe I was so distraught at the thought of him hurting Harry that I abandoned all logic._ “He told me repeatedly that he would kill him. That he had the power to kill him. What if I’d spoken to you and he’d found out. The rest of the world believed that he was Harry Potter. How hard would it be for him to find out information about who I was speaking to?”

“Why did you wait so long to use the Imperius Curse, then?” She asked, “If you’d made up your mind that that would be the only way to end this.”

Draco had practiced this in his head all night, lying next to that creep, “He kept my wand from me. He kept it on him or hidden away. I knew I’d need him to trust me a little, or make a mistake. If he hadn’t wanted me to feed from him so badly, I might not have gotten the chance.”

“You couldn’t have stolen his?” Hermione could see right through him, but he knew he was really there to convince Donahue. Hermione trusted him. _Whether or not she should remains to be seen_.

“As you may not know, Granger, being the goody-two-shoes that you are, the Imperius Curse is a tricky one. Certainly not something you’d want to try with an unfamiliar wand, particularly if your partner’s _life_ is at stake.”

Hermione studied him for a moment in silence. She looked up at Donahue whose expression was irritatingly blank. Finally, after what felt like ages, she looked back to Draco. “Alright, Draco. I’m going into the other room to see how their interview is going. I’ll allow you to stay here, with… _Harry._ ” She said, as if she wasn’t sure whether or not to believe him, but he could see in her dark eyes that she fully believed that it was, in fact, Harry who was lying on the bed. “But Donahue will stay here to supervise. You will not be allowed your wand for a bit longer, I’m afraid. We certainly aren’t taking any chances.”

“I understand. Thank you, Minister.” Draco said, turning immediately to hold Harry’s hand once more.

Behind him, he heard Hermione’s voice, “Oh, Draco? Why is it you didn’t want us using someone from St. Mungo’s?”

Draco fought to keep his expression neutral as he looked over his shoulder, “I’ve gotten into a bit of a row with one or two of the potion makers at work. I just trust your ministry officials more.”

“He’ll need to be taken in as soon as they’ve completed the potion.” Hermione advised him, her expression unreadable, “I won’t have him revived here.”

“I understand. I just want to be with him when he is.” Draco turned back to look at Harry’s pallid body.

“We’ll see what we can do, Draco.”

Draco heard her footsteps retreating, but had no trouble ignoring everything else as he watched his lover breathing softly. _They won’t both get off so easily._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT NOTE: This will be the last chapter to include elements of non-con.


	7. Malfeasance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a new chapter for you. Sorry about the delay. I'm working on the next one now. The fic should be completed before the end of the year.

Draco dozed, completely undisturbed by Donahue left in the same room and uninterested in the occasional raised voices from the next room. Now that he was sure Harry was in no immediate danger even the coolness of his skin against Draco’s own didn’t worry him.

He swayed in and out of consciousness, his body torn between wanting to make up the last week of sleepless nights and wanting to remain alert in his current situation. He wasn’t sure how long he was sitting by Harry’s side, his head leant against the rough cot, Harry’s hand in his.

Hermione’s voice roused him from his sleep, “Draco? Draco, you really need to go home.”

Draco wiped the drool from his mouth, looking around bleary eyed, “No, ‘sokay. I’m just tired.”

Hermione knelt down beside him, “No, Draco. We have to take Harry to St. Mungo’s now.” She put her hand on his shoulder, “You _need_ to go home. It’s not a request.”

Draco’s head snapped up and he growled, actually growled. He saw Hermione’s eyes register surprise for a brief second, but otherwise she showed no outward signs of intimidation. “Hermione, you can’t take him there.”

“Draco,” she rubbed her eyes, her brow furrowed, “you have to tell me what’s going on.” Hermione was clearly exasperated, and Draco knew she was only a few moments away from ordering the aurors to restrain him and taking Harry into hospital herself.

“Alright.” He said softly.

Hermione’s eyes widened, “Alright?”

Draco nodded, “Privately.”

Hermione didn’t hesitate, getting to her feet. “Leave us.” She barked at the aurors who had gathered around the perimeter of the room.

Plinkley stepped forward, to the surprise of exactly no one. “Excuse me, Minister, but we can’t do that. Our job, first and foremost, is to protect the wizarding community from… _people_ … like him.” Draco sneered at the way he said ‘people’ clearly trying his hardest not to say ‘creatures’ in front of Hermione.

A few of the other aurors were nodding and Draco could hear Hermione’s heartbeat quicken. She took two purposeful steps forward and several of the aurors shrank back. Draco didn’t blame them. He vividly remembered getting punched in the face his third year. Not only was she indisputably the most powerful witch alive, she was a force to be reckoned with even without magic. “Mr. Plinkley, if you have a problem with my leadership, I suggest you take it up with the Ministry. Do you honestly believe there is anything that you could do to protect me that I am not fully capable of doing myself?”

The aurors who had agreed with Plinkley shuffled their feet, and Plinkley’s eyes flicked from side to side, searching for anyone willing to stand with him. Finally, he dropped his gaze.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Plinkley. I didn’t hear any sort of response.” The room was steeped in uncomfortable silence as Hermione waited for him to speak.

Plinkley looked like he was in physical pain, and Draco didn’t even try to stop the smile that spread across his face. “Of course not. I know you can handle yourself, Minister.”

Hermione took Draco by the arm without another word and dragged him into a back room.

Draco looked around, this was a room he hadn’t explored. It had an unmade bed, a lamp, and a pile of books on an end table. He could tell Hermione was taking it all in, too, but he didn’t wait for her to start asking questions, “You believe me, right Hermione?”

Hermione tore her gaze from the bed and looked him in the eye, “I do.”

“They don’t.” Draco sneered, looking back at the door behind him.

“They don’t need to, the polyjuice will wear off soon. When did he take his last dose?”

Draco thought back. He had probably taken some when he left the room right before Draco imperiused him. “Probably right before we arrived.”

“We’ll keep him under guard until it does. Then he’ll be transported to Azkaban for impersonating a Ministry official.”

“Isn’t that something _you’ve_ done, Minister?” Draco said slyly.

“I’ve found my school-era mischief serves as excellent inspiration for future legislation.” Hermione said with a grin.

“Listen, I have my reasons for not trusting St. Mungo’s right now.” Hermione opened her mouth but Draco cut her off with a raised hand, “Not ‘not trusting’ them. Just on this. I can’t really explain.” Draco knew she wouldn’t accept that, but he had to try, “I have to take Harry home. I can care for him myself. When the potion is ready, then we can take him to St. Mungo’s. Just let me take him home.”

Hermione shook her head, “It’s not good enough, Draco.” She shook her head, “let’s imagine I let you take him back to Grimmauld Place. I know there’s something you’re not telling me. What if you disappear, I can’t know that you won’t. Now you have Harry Potter as an apparent hostage in a kidnapping that would certainly end both of our careers, throw the Ministry and wizarding world into chaos. There is nothing that I would like more than to believe you. To trust that you have thought this all out. But I can’t, there is too much _I don’t know._ ” She emphasised the last few words, leaning in close. “I know you, Draco. I still occasionally can’t believe that, but it’s true. I know you. I know that you have Harry’s best interests at heart, always. I know that you would do anything, _anything,_ for him.” She touched his hand gently, “and that’s what makes me so nervous. I need to be certain that whatever you have planned won’t make this whole thing worse. Harry needs to recover. The best place to do that is in hospital with trained healers.”

“Hermione,” Draco said, covering her hand with his, “ _I’m_ a trained healer.” She shook her head gently, “and I _do_ have Harry’s best interests at heart.”

Hermione did not look convinced. She gave him an appraising look, slowly reading his expression of honest pleading. Finally, after what felt like an age of silence, she nodded once. Draco hardly heard her next words over the sudden welling of emotion. “I will be checking in, personally and frequently.” Draco felt the relief wash over him, “I will not force you to be accompanied by aurors, but I _will_ insist that you take him into St. Mungo’s the moment the potion is ready.” Draco nodded vigorously, “You understand,” she said, “that that means you have fewer than 48 hours to do whatever, probably illicit, thing you intend to do.”

Draco stiffened, but nodded, _there was never any chance Hermione wouldn’t figure it out._

“Fine.” Hermione shrugged. “I’ll make it happen.” She went into another room as Draco stood, somewhat dumbfounded by his luck.

It was fewer than 15 minutes before Hermione called Draco back into the main room. A number of the Aurors had left, Plinkley included, leaving only two. Draco watched them warily, wondering what Hermione had told them to convince them to let Harry be taken. Hermione cleared her throat and drew her wand, she conjured a plain black robe, which she handed to Draco. He covered his partner, his movements slow and careful as he threaded Harry’s limp arms through the sleeves. He felt the three pairs of eyes on his back, but ignored them as he buttoned the robe with precise fingers.

“You’re free to take him back to Grimmauld Place. He will not leave Grimmauld Place without Ministry approval. I’ll be escorting you to ensure charms are in place to prevent him being moved without our authorisation. Draco nodded, _no problem._ “The antidote is being brewed by officials within the Ministry as we speak. Once it is ready you _will_ hand Harry over to the Ministry, we will transport him to St. Mungo’s and you will be allowed to visit him in accordance with their existing guest and visitor policy. Is this all clear?”

Draco nodded, easily lifting Harry from the cot. “I understand, Minister.”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “You realise you’ve broken at least half a dozen laws in the course of the last 24 hours? And those are just the things I know about.” She shook her head, “you _cannot_ fire off the Dark Mark in the sky without repercussions, no matter how good your intentions. You _cannot_ use an unforgivable curse on someone. You _cannot_ kidnap someone and hold them against their will.”

Draco sputtered, “That’s what _he_ did! I just brought him back to the scene of his own crime!”

Hermione shook her head, “You’ll have to face the Wizengamot, one way or another.”

Draco stood still for a moment, but the soft rising and falling of Harry’s chest brought him back to reality. He nodded. He had no choice. _Who knows if they’ll get the chance for a trial._

Hermione pulled a small violet pouch out of her robes, “I’ll follow behind in just a little bit.” She lit a fire in the fireplace with an effortless flick of her wand, “Take care of him.” She whispered as she held the floo powder out to Draco.

 

Draco stripped Harry of the robe Hermione had conjured for him as he carried him upstairs. _I fed last night, but I’m not sure I’ll be warm enough to bring his temperature up._ Draco knew that Harry’s body temperature was too low even without taking the man’s temperature. He wondered if he could risk a lukewarm bath. He knew that a drought of pepperup potion would be more than enough to warm Harry’s shivering body, but he had no experience with the concoction Nott had given him. _What the contraindications might be_. He normally would suggest a warm body next to his and warm blankets, but Draco’s body wouldn’t be warm enough to make much of a difference. _He’s just cold, he’s not hypothermic. A lukewarm bath shouldn’t be too dangerous._ Draco drew the bath and lowered Harry into it. He rinsed his hair and ran his hands gently over the man’s slowly warming skin to encourage circulation. He kept Harry’s damp head on his shoulder as he knelt there until the warmth from the bath had all but dissipated. Wrapping Harry in a robe he brought him downstairs to the kitchen where he gently lay Harry on the floor a couple of metres from the fireplace. He summoned a few blankets, a pillow, and a cloth as he lit the fire with a flick of his wand. Once Harry was wrapped up tight in the blankets, his head resting on the pillow and the cloth, now dampened with a quick _Aguamenti,_ resting on his forehead, Draco finally let himself breathe again. He sat at the kitchen table in the chair closest to Harry and waited. He summoned a housecoat and wrapped himself in the comforting warmth.

It was almost half an hour before Hermione arrived, changed out of her Ministry robes and carrying a bag of shopping.

“I didn’t know if you’d have anything in.” She said, stepping around Harry as she set the bag down on the table and pulled off her woolly jumper. “How is he?”

“Better. I’ve brought his temperature up a bit. Still unconscious, obviously.” Draco watched her unload several tins of biscuits, some milk, and a carton of eggs. She waved her wand at the electric kettle that Harry had talked Draco into allowing into the house and set about making herself a cup of tea.

“You know there will be all sorts of trouble at the Ministry about all of this.” She said with a wry laugh, “and I don’t know what you’re planning-” She held up a hand quickly, “Nor do I want to, but you are almost certainly going to make it worse.” Draco dropped his gaze and she added a bit of milk to her tea before continuing, “Why not just tell me whatever it is you haven’t told us. We can take care of it through the proper channels.”

Draco shook his head, “No. This is for me. You can’t be involved.”

“What I’m saying is that you shouldn’t be involved either!” Hermione’s voice was exasperated, “You and Harry are just the same. You both jump headfirst into trouble _whenever_ possible, but you at least usually have the common sense to back off when you’re in over your head.”

Draco chuckled. “Did Harry or Ron ever tell you about the time I challenged them to a duel in our first year?” He remembered how angry he’d been at Harry after their first flying lesson. “It was the end of our second week and-”

“I remember.” Hermione said dryly. “I was with them that night when they went to meet you.”

Draco’s shock was evident on his face, “You were? Why?”

Hermione pursed her lips and Draco had to fight back a grin at the memory of school-aged Hermione. “ _Because_ I overheard you challenging them in the Great Hall so I stayed up to stop them. I suspected you’d be cleverer than to risk getting caught out of bed, far more likely that it was a trap. They were a couple of idiots, of course, and wouldn’t listen. And then we all got locked out of the common room, so I had to go with them. Neville was with us, too.” She scrunched up her face, “Can’t remember why he came along…”

Draco laughed out loud, “I had no idea it had turned into a midnight romp for all the Gryffindor first years.”

“It wasn’t funny, Draco. We would have all gotten into serious trouble. But that’s just what I’m talking about. You know when to cut your losses. Harry never has.”

Draco gave her a sceptical look and pulled the sleeve of his housecoat up, “I don’t always know when I’m in over my head.”

Hermione hardly spared a glance for the Dark Mark. She’d seen it plenty of times, and was always gracious enough to not mention it to Draco. “That’s why I’m worried, Draco. You’re usually cleverer than this. But you have the same self-destructive streak as Harry when it comes to revenge.”

“What makes you think I’m planning on some sort of revenge?” Draco asked, his voice neutral.

“C’mon, Draco. I’m hardly stupid.” She said with a bemused look, “I know there’s something you’re hiding from us, probably a co-conspirator, and I know you only asked me over to watch Harry while you went to do something dangerous. Besides,” her voice dropped to a near whisper, “you’d never let anyone hurt Harry and get away with it. You would demand your own brand of justice. Something beyond the bounds of the law.” Draco didn’t meet her eye and she nodded, “Fine. Don’t involve me and don’t involve Harry. I’ll send an owl to Ron and let him know I’ll be here watching Harry as long as necessary. And I meant what I said, Draco” She added, “the minute the potion is ready we’re taking him to St. Mungo’s. That’s not negotiable.”

Draco nodded. “You mean everything to him, Hermione. You’ve been an amazing friend to us both. I don’t deserve any kind of compassion, but you’ve gone beyond that.”

“Stop it, Draco.” She barked, “You are not going to say goodbye to me. I don’t care what you have planned. You’re coming back to Harry. And I’ll see you then.”

Draco stood, blinking back tears and left the kitchen.

Draco took the stairs two at a time until he reached their bedroom. Taking a moment to savour their scent as it lingered in the air, Draco opened the wardrobe. He carefully selected a pair of worn jeans and a t-shirt whose origin he couldn’t for the life of him remember. He pulled on a set of plain black robes and pocketed his wand. He turned slowly and walked to the bathroom, his footsteps echoing on the tile. Stood in front of the mirror he took in the sight, at that moment instead of making him uncomfortable, he found his lack of reflection somehow soothing. He remembered the mornings before classes when he’d stand in front of the mirrors in the Slytherin boys’ toilet. The other boys would come and go, hastily cleaning their teeth and running a comb through their hair before shuffling out, still bleary-eyed from sleep. Draco used to wake up an hour before the other boys in his dormitory. He spent half of that hour revising or reading. More often than not he’d get distracted staring up at the lake, watching the fish and merfolk swim past. Now as an adult he spent that time lying in bed, awake next to Harry Potter. He still, even after having been together for months, was shocked that he knew such intimate details of his once-rival. How Harry drooled in his sleep, his breaths deep as his chest rose and fell. _I was so lucky to have him._ Draco thought wistfully. Harry would be revived. Soon he’d be back to sleeping in this bed, to looking at himself in this very mirror. Draco wondered whether or not he’d be there to see it.

Steeling himself for what he planned to do, Draco pulled his thoughts back to the present. He felt his fangs lengthening uncomfortably as he brought his pale wrist up to his mouth. The sharp points tore easily into the flesh and he let the blood smear over his lips and dribble messily down his chin as he drank his own blood. The blood itself wasn’t satisfying, but the feeling of the blood dripping off his chin onto his t-shirt certainly was. He watched as the wounds healed themselves before his eyes before quickly rinsing the residual blood from his wrist, careful not to get any on his sleeve. He spared one more glance at their bedroom before Draco apparated from Grimmauld Place, unsure if he’d ever return.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will have some dark themes (as I'm sure you can imagine). I'll include relevant content warnings.


	8. Abatement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That one went pretty quickly! Only one more to go!  
> To avoid spoilers, additional content warnings are in the end notes- feel free to read those first if you're not sure if this chapter will be for you.

There are strict rules against apparating into St. Mungo’s unless the witch or wizard is on Ministry business or has direct clearance from a Senior Healer. Draco fell into neither category. He appeared, as planned, in the centre of the fourth floor. He didn’t waste any time, not even sparing a glance at the witches and wizards who took startled steps back when they saw his face. He focused on letting his fangs lengthen as he hurried into the ward where he knew Zara would be working. He took a quick breath and flung the door open dramatically. All heads in the ward turned toward him and there were several audible gasps. He could hear everyone’s heartbeats quicken as he stood, his expression panicked, in the doorway. A moment passed before Zara poked her head out from behind a curtain where she was sequestered with a patient. Draco tried not to look right at her, but he still saw the precise moment when she registered what it was that she was seeing.

Draco sank to his knees and Zara rushed forward, “Draco!” she said urgently, “Come here!”

Draco didn’t move, his eyes frantically darting around the room as she dragged him bodily into the small office where they’d spoken most recently. She sat Draco in a chair and drew the curtains with shaking hands. “What happened, Draco?” she whispered urgently.

“I-” Draco paused, slowly licking his lips for effect. He watched her eyes follow the movement with growing dread, “I just got so angry.”

“Who was it, Draco?” she pressed, kneeling beside him.

“I don’t know.” He gasped. “It all happened so fast, and then I thought he’d turn back…”

“He didn’t?” Zara asked anxiously and Draco took a steadying breath trying not to show his glee that she’d dropped the pretence that she wasn’t involved.

“No. He just- But he’s not dead!” He ended with a whisper and Zara jumped to her feet.

“Where is he, Draco?” Draco shook his head mournfully.

“It’s no use. I’m finished. No one will believe me.”

“I believe you, Draco. Tell me where he is!”

Draco looked up at her dolefully and shuddered, “I’ll be sacked. And Harry-” He let a sob rack his body before dramatically choking it back, covering his mouth with his hand. When he brought it away from his mouth, he saw the drying blood lingering there and stared at it with feigned hunger.

“Draco!” She shouted, “Now! We might still be able to save him. You won’t be sacked and _no one_ ” her emphasis was unmistakable, “will get hurt!”

Draco nodded slowly and reached his hand out. “We should apparate. I don’t know how long he has…”

She took his hand without hesitation and Draco smiled as they vanished from the spot.

 

***

 

The passageway before them was dark, a steep staircase sloping down before them. Zara looked at Draco, for the first time showing uncertainty.

“It was… I wasn’t sure what to do with him. What if they came for me? I didn’t know what to do-” he let his voice fade out and she turned back to the stairs, obviously placated, both of their boots clicking against the stone as they descended. At the bottom was a heavy door. Zara tried the handle and found it locked. She pulled her wand out before Draco could say anything- “ _Alohomora!”_

“It won’t work.” Draco said, stepping beside her and tapping the cellar door with his own wand. It swung inward and Zara stepped inside the pitch-black room cautiously.

“Where is he?” She asked, her head turning as she tried to see with the scarce light offered through the open door by the dim staircase outside. “Draco?” She asked, taking a hesitant step forward, feeling around with her foot.

Draco smiled to himself. _She won’t be able to see a thing in here._ He knew she’d try an illumination charm, but he only had to disarm her, _shouldn’t be hard._

As if on cue, Zara raised her wand, but at that precise moment Draco slammed the door closed behind her. The sound made her start and she managed a half turn before Draco was on her, wrestling the wand out of her hand and flinging it across the room. He had no need for light, and she grunted as she tried to get him off her.

“What the hell are you doing, Draco?” He heard her realise what was happening before she finished speaking, “Get off me!” she snarled.

To her evident surprise, Draco let her go. He took several steps back, easily avoiding her blind swings. He crouched down, unlacing his boots and setting them aside quietly. _I want her to be completely helpless. The same way I was._ He smiled as she shivered in the darkness. He took a few steps around her, his footsteps silent, stopping his breathing as he moved like a ghost.

“Is it his blood?” She asked.

“What if it was?” Draco asked, watching her head whip around in the direction of his voice.

“Tell me!”

“Oh, Zara.” Draco said with syrupy sweetness, “I don’t think you’ll get very far making demands of me right now, do you?”

“Spare me the Malfoy shit, Draco.” She growled. “Is he alright?”

Draco chuckled, “Theo never knew when to keep his nose out of things that didn’t concern him.”

He watched the shock register on her face, “How did you find out? About either of us?”

“You weren’t terribly careful.” He said, moving quickly behind her opposite shoulder before he spoke again, “You shouldn’t have told him that I was snooping around about the antidote.”

“I was the only one you asked.” Her voice sounded resigned as she realised their fatal mistake. She took another desperate swing but missed Draco by a bit as he moved quickly back in front of her.

“You were.” He said with satisfaction. “And our kind colleague, Katy, happened to mention you two were on the same shift schedule when she recommended I speak with you. Hardly a dastardly plot.” Zara was furious, her heart was racing and Draco shook his head, “You don’t have to worry, Zara.” He put his hand on her shoulder, taking it away quickly as she lunged in the direction she thought he might be. “I didn't bring you here to kill you.”

Zara froze, surprised. “What?”

“I only have a few questions.” His voice was mild and he watched her trying not to get her hopes up.

“And then?” she asked warily.

“Well, if you manage to survive the questions, we’ll have to see.” Draco said calmly. “I don’t expect it’ll come to that, though. You’ll beg for me to kill you, and I have to say, Zara-” He leaned in and whispered, “I’ll be inclined to oblige you.”

He waved his wand casually and ropes materialized, wrapping themselves like snakes around her wrists and ankles. She cried out as they pulled her into an ‘x’ shape, barely able to stand as she struggled to keep her balance.

“I hate to leave you like this. Mostly because I’d rather watch every second of your pain, but I have to go check on Harry. I have your wand,” He said, crossing to where it had landed and pocketing it, “and there’s no way out of the cellar but through the door. I think you know better than to try to escape. So, make yourself comfortable and I’ll be back soon.”

Her protests followed him out the door, which he closed and tapped once more with his wand, ensuring the room would be inescapable even if she managed to break free of the ropes.

He made his way upstairs in no particular rush. He’d need to clean himself off before returning to Hermione. He pulled a clean shirt from his wardrobe and stripped off the bloody t-shirt before going to the toilet to wash his face. He thoroughly scrubbed his mouth, chin, and neck, unable to know for sure whether he’d managed to clean himself off entirely. Finally, unable to do any more without a reflection, he made his way down to the fireplace in the drawing room.

 

***

 

When Draco stepped out of the fireplace in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, Hermione was nowhere to be seen. He quickly bent down to check Harry’s vitals. _No change since I last saw him._ He sighed in relief and was pleased to note that he was a bit warmer than he had been, _fire’s doing its job then._

He was brushing Harry’s fringe away from his face when he heard Hermione’s footsteps descending the stairs into the kitchen.

“Oh!” She gasped, “Merlin, Draco. You scared me!”

Draco smiled sheepishly, “How is he?”

She sighed, “you tell me.”

“He seems a bit improved. Any word from the Ministry about the antidote?”

Hermione shook her head, “I expect I’ll hear from them in the next hour or so, though.” She looked at Draco thoughtfully, “Are you back? Because if you don’t mind staying I can go check on their progress.”

Draco nodded eagerly, “I’ve still got things I’ll need to do, but I can stay a bit. Nothing that won’t keep.”

Hermione smiled, “Back in a mo.”

She hurried up the stairs and Draco turned back to Harry. He was knelt on the ground beside the man, but with Hermione gone he lowered himself to the ground. Budging up against Harry’s body he breathed a sigh of relief as he felt the other man’s warmth and familiar shape. He breathed in Harry’s scent and, with his arm draped gently over Harry’s chest, fell into a deep sleep.

“Draco? Draco?” Hermione’s soft voice stirred him from his rest. He shook his head slightly, clearing the haze of sleep from his mind as he sat up after checking quickly that Harry’s condition remained unchanged.

“Sorry, ‘Mione. I guess I drifted off.” Draco’s voice was apologetic, but he didn’t feel guilty. Harry was stable and it had been a long time since he’d been able to hold him like that.

“Oh, it’s fine, Draco.” Hermione said with a smile, sitting at the table. “The antidote is nearly complete. They’re anxious about the administration, and if you remember, we’re going to have to take him in to hospital for that. He needs to be carefully supervised as we have no idea whether this will work. Of course,” she said with a sigh, “you did get it from Nott whilst imperiused, so it’s almost certainly correct. Or at least he believes it is.”

“Has the polyjuice worn off yet?” Draco asked eagerly.

She nodded, “I just got word. It’s Theodore Nott, alright.” Her brow was furrowed, “Do you know why he’d do this. I mean, if it was just him wanting you sexually, why all the sadism? I never thought of him as particularly cruel.”

Draco shook his head. “I’m still working on the answers.”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed, but she said nothing.

“Can you continue to watch him? I- I need to finish something.”

Hermione shook her head, “I’m not happy about this, Draco.”

He nodded, “I know you’re not, Hermione. But you’re not responsible for my actions.”

She looked terribly uncomfortable and said bruskly, “When they finish the potion I’ll take him to hospital straight away. Whether you’re here or not. Unless you can tell me where I can notify you?”

“Better not.” He said cautiously. “I’ll come to St. Mungo’s as soon as I can.” He hesitated a moment then, “Hermione? There might be some rumours going around about me. They’re not true. Honestly, they’re not. I may be keeping things from you, but I’m not outright lying. You know that.”

Hermione looked as though she wanted to ask more about the rumours, but she said nothing.

Draco smiled and leaned over to give Harry a soft kiss on the lips before taking a handful of floo powder, turning his back to Hermione and whispering under his breath, “Malfoy Manor” before stepping into the flame.

 

***

 

“Ah! Zara! How kind of you to wait for me.” Draco’s boots clicked once more against the stone as he strode into the cellar, watching with amusement as Zara blinked against the light from the open door, barely enough to illuminate the doorway, yet blinding after having spent so long in total darkness.

“Fuck you, Malfoy.” She growled, and Draco smiled, closing the door behind himself.

“Now. Let’s get into it.” He conjured a chair and sat down opposite her, though he knew she couldn’t see him anyway. There was no reason to continue hiding his location. She was well restrained and she remained unarmed. Laying his wand across his lap he asked her in a clear voice, “I thought about using the imperius curse on you, but I think that would take the fun out of it. So, I’ve ruled that particular unforgivable curse out. The other two are almost certainly going to play a part, and in what order is largely up to you.”

Zara snarled and struggled against the ropes.

“So, the first question I have for you is- how did you come to know Theodore? You weren’t at school with us, so how did you two meet?”

Zara made no move to answer and Draco smiled, _this is going to be more fun than I anticipated._

It had been a long time since Draco got any pleasure from the idea of hurting someone else. He remembered during his school days the sadistic pleasure he felt meeting up with Greg and Vince after he’d just smashed Harry’s face in on the Hogwarts Express. He’d gloated and felt absolutely no remorse as he imagined Harry lying in a pool of blood, invisible to anyone who might try to find him. _But now,_ the thought, _this is a pleasure that was hard to imagine before._ He’d wanted to destroy Harry’s life for destroying his Father’s life, but he’d never actually imagined that he’d kill Harry. _Sure, there were plenty of times that I wanted to, but I never did. Hell,_ he remembered, _I couldn’t even send him to his death when he and the others were here in the Manor._

He flicked his wand casually, speaking calmly and clearly, " _Sectumsempra_." The scar on his chest tingled as he listened to her screams. The smell of her blood washed over him, but he wasn’t interested in that. He wanted to watch her bleed.

“What the fuck was that?” She shouted, gasping with pain as the gash on her chest bled freely.

Draco leapt from his chair and stood with his face centimetres from hers, “a mere taste of what the rest of this conversation will be like if you’re uncooperative.”

Zara spat in his face and tried to headbutt him, but Draco delivered a swift punch directly on the still bleeding gash, leaving her gasping as he wiped his face. He returned to his chair, a flick of his wand conjuring a muggle suturing needle. “This is not the way I usually tend to wounds, but you’ll know that it’s just as effective. Even if it is slow and painful.” At his wand’s direction, the needle was threaded and began stitching her chest up, without muggle or magical anaesthetic of any kind. “Now. I asked how you know Theodore Nott.”

“We met in a pub.” She growled through gritted teeth.

“A pub?” Draco asked sceptically. She was blinking rapidly and Draco wondered if she was trying to adjust her eyes to the pitch-black cellar. _A futile effort._

“Yes. A pub. Down on Knockturn Alley. He was drinking alone and I thought I’d chat him up.”

“And you chatting him up turned into a plot against Harry and I, how?” Draco said dryly, watching as the needle finished the stitches with a yank and vanished.

“You two were in the paper that morning. He was drunk enough to start complaining about how you two were perfect for one another.”

“What does that mean?” Draco said, eyes narrowing as he tried to imagine the scene.

“He said he fancied you in school but couldn’t say anything because you were so far in the closet. That he spent time at the Manor every summer and you still hardly noticed him at school.”

“What does that have to do with Harry?” Draco said, ice in his voice.

“You know his father was at the Ministry? He got caught and sent to Azkaban with the rest of them.”

Draco sputtered, “So he blames Harry? He was acting on The Dark Lord’s orders!”

“Don’t call him that, you bastard!” Zara spat.

“What are you talking about?”

“‘The Dark Lord’. Like he’s some kind of hero.” She seemed livid and Draco realised for the first time that he was genuinely confused.

“You weren’t one of his supporters?” He asked, trying to wrap his mind around why someone who hated The Dark Lord would also hate Harry Potter.

“Of course not! I’m not scum like you!” Her eyes darted from side to side, unseeing.

“... and Nott…” Draco shook his head in bewilderment, “You know that Nott was a Death Eater as well?”

“He wasn’t Marked.” She said with a shrug, “He was a twat, too. A means to an end.”

“So why do you hate Harry?”

“Hate Harry?” Zara laughed and Draco raised his wand, tempted to cut her again if he weren’t so interested in what she had to say. “I don’t hate Harry. I hate you.”

“So, you hated me, and he hated Harry- so you banded together with some plot to kill us both? How does that make sense?” Draco was getting angry, his fangs lengthened and he wondered how long he should wait before just killing her.

“You’re an idiot.” She said.

Draco smiled and raised his wand, _“Crucio!”_

She writhed in pain for a moment, her screams echoing on the stone walls before sagging against the ropes, her wrists red.

“You’re going to want to be a bit politer, Zara.”

“Fuck you, Malfoy.” She gasped breathlessly.

“Ah, so you’re a slow learner. _Crucio!_ ”

Again, she screamed as her body convulsed and Draco watched with satisfaction.

“Let’s try this again. What was the plan?”

“He didn’t just hate Harry. It was your father that got his father arrested.”

“How is that? My father was arrested as well! It was hardly his plan.”

“He made the others leave him. He was injured. Never had a chance to escape.”

“So, if you hate Death Eaters, why would you help him avenge his father, however stupid his logic was on that?”

“Helping one Death Eater is nothing compared to the joy it would be to put you down.” She glared into the darkness and Draco stood, too much adrenaline to be sat any longer.

“Why is that?”

“Your kind shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near regular people. Certainly, shouldn’t be allowed in hospital, all while buggering the man who stopped your ‘ _Dark Lord_ ’ from killing us all!”

“So, you hate vampires and Death Eaters. You love Harry Potter, and you wanted to split us up, or kill me should the opportunity arise?” Draco said, trying to keep it straight.

“I don’t love Harry Potter. He’s mad. But we all owe him a debt, and saving him from whatever spell you’ve placed him under seems like a fine way to repay that debt.”

“Merlin,” Draco muttered, pacing back and forth in front of her, “you’re completely delusional. Harry is with me of his own free-”, but he stopped abruptly, “You know, you don’t deserve any kind of explanation. You threatened Harry and tortured me and you’re not going to leave this cellar.”

Draco smiled and with a slash of his wand, cut through the rope binding her left wrist. Gasping, Zara shook her arm before quickly untying the other wrist and reaching down to fumble with her ankles. Draco waited patiently until she was freed and took a few steps back. She stood, perfectly still, listening. Once again, Draco unlaced his boots and tossed them aside, watching her start and turn quickly when she heard them hit the ground.

“You seem like a fighter, Zara. And you clearly want to kill me, so why don’t you give it your best shot.”

Zara snarled, “You know I can’t see a fucking thing you monster.”

“Admittedly, that does make it a bit trickier for you. But since my ability to see in the dark is a side effect of my _monstrosity_ , surely, you’re glad for your normal, human vision.”

Zara lunged forward, throwing punches at the air in the direction of his voice. He moved quickly and shouted " _Sectumsempra_!". Zara screeched and fell to the ground as the back of her right thigh was split open and once again she began bleeding freely.

“You’d better hurry if you want to kill me first.” Draco’s voice was bored. His fangs pricked his lower lip, but he remained uninterested in her blood, just as he’d been uninterested in Nott’s. _They violated me. Forced me to drink from him. That’s not something I'll forgive._

“You’re just the same. Everyone thinks you’ve changed, you’ve even managed to fool Harry Potter.” She said, spinning around wildly, one hand trying to apply pressure to the gash on her thigh. “Unless he really is a masochist. Which wouldn’t surprise me that much, honestly. He’s always loved getting himself into dangerous situations. You’re just the latest in a long string of bad decisions."

Draco glared, “You’re taking too long.” He hissed, " _Sectumsempra_!".

This time it was a gash across her shoulder. It was deep and wrapped around her deltoid from the front of her body to the back. She fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face as she continued to hurl insults at him. “I’d kill you in a second!” She shouted, “and you’re too much of a coward to kill me now!”

Draco chuckled, “not a coward, just a spectator. I’d rather watch you bleed out.”

“Fucking vampire.” She spat.

“Unoriginal.” Draco said disapprovingly. “I told you you’d beg me to kill you. You should have started sooner.”

“Doesn’t matter anyway. You’ll rot in Azkaban for killing me. Harry will move on, he’ll have a family with someone who actually can. He’ll forget all about you, just a childhood enemy with worthless parents who went to the dark side because he was too much of a coward to stand up for himself.”

“Pretty rich for you to chide me for not standing up for myself now.” Draco said with a laugh.

“You’re still a coward. Won’t give me my wand, will you? Won’t light a candle, will you?” Her voice was wavering and Draco could hear her heartbeat stutter.

“That’s not cowardice. That’s cleverness. You’re confusing honour with victory. People die honourable deaths all the time. It doesn’t matter how honourable you are, you’ve still died.” He shrugged even though she couldn’t see it. “If I gave you your wand I’d be taking an unnecessary risk. What would I get out of it? Nothing. Except possibly killed.”

“So, you’re going to just kill me in cold blood?” She hissed.

“You’re the one knelt in it. Tell me,” he whispered, moving close enough that she could hear his bare feet squelching through her blood on the stone floor, “is it cold?”

She tried to grab at him, but she was pale as ice and beginning to sway.

“You’ll go to Azkaban.” She shuddered.

“Only if they find your body.” He said, unconcerned. " _Sectumsempra_."

The final gash tore through her stomach and for the first time since they’d arrived, he saw genuine distress on her face. It was more than just the pain. Even now, on the verge of bleeding to death, she was suddenly aware that he was actually planning to let her die like that. In all her goading, she had actually thought he would let her go. _It wasn’t her first mistake, but it will be her last._

“They’ll come looking for me! Everyone saw you leave with me! Blood all over you! They’ll know it was you.”

“Perhaps,” Draco conceded, “but they won’t be able to prove it. It’s not as if I’m a stranger to vicious rumours.”

“What will Harry think?” She gasped, falling forward, catching herself with shaking arms as she lowered herself to the ground.

“He’ll be alive to think whatever he wants of me.” Draco said, kneeling beside her “That’s all that matters.”

The silence of the cellar engulfed them as Draco listened absentmindedly as the faltering heartbeat faded to nothingness. He drew his fingers through the blood pooled around him and wondered briefly how he would explain to Harry what had happened. He had meant what he said, _if Harry hates me for this and chooses to leave me, I’ll respect his decision. Nott’s only alive because the Ministry had to know what happened._ He sat there for several more minutes, until the blood really had run cold.

Finally, trailing blood behind him, he stood and walked across the room. He held out his wand, _no sense using hers. I used my own for the last half dozen illegal spells. If they want to check my wand I’ll be implicated regardless,_ “ _Tergeo_!”

The blood on the floor began to pool together, rising gently toward Draco’s wand tip. He watched as the blood vanished before his eyes, seeping out of both her clothing and his own, leaving the stone floor as clean as it had been before their ill-fated visit.

He considered leaving the body where it was. The cellar itself wasn’t a well-known feature of Malfoy Manor, and the chances were slim that they would search it without approval from the Minister, but he certainly didn’t want to put Hermione in a position where she would have to put her job at risk. So, he went upstairs to get a sheet, wrapped the body up tight and took it into the foyer. He remembered his aunt telling him a trick once that she had used when she used to kill muggles back during the first wizarding war. He shuddered a bit at the thought, but couldn’t help but applaud her ingenuity. Careful to avoid being seen, he carried the body out the front door. He unwrapped the sheet and looked at Zara’s body, practically shredded, looking unreal since he’d cleaned her of any remaining blood. He took his wand and cleared his throat. " _Pulvicorpus_!'

As he watched, the body before him turned to dust. Indistinguishable from the dirt around it. “Ashes to Ashes” he muttered, bundling up the sheet and returning to the manor without a second glance. _Time for a shower._

 

***

 

Draco found the note on the kitchen table. He hadn’t expected different:

**Draco,**

**The potion is ready, I am with Harry at St. Mungo’s.**

**3rd floor- Oswald Ottenbot ward**

 

Draco queued anxiously at the Inquires desk. “Harry Potter.” He said briskly when he reached the front of the queue. The witch behind the desk scanned the parchment on the desk slowly, “I know where he is. I’m not working today, but I’m a healer on the 3rd floor.”

She looked him up and down, unimpressed, and finally found the name. “Third floor, Oswald-”

“Ottenbot ward. Thank you.” Draco finished for her and hurried past. He nudged past a huddle of wizards queuing for the lift and slipped into the empty stairwell. Taking the steps two at a time, he brushed his hair out of his face as he reached the third floor.

The Oswald Ottenbot ward was immediately next to the Saleem Sirpitus ward where he worked, so he made his way there without hesitation. The door was held open and he hurried inside. Every curtain was drawn and Draco sniffed the air to determine which bed was Harry’s. He hurried to the third bed on the right side, gently pulling aside the curtain to find Hermione, Ron, and Harry- fully conscious and chatting to them both.

Draco’s eyes filled with tears and Harry gasped when he saw Draco. He covered the distance to the bed in two steps and flung himself onto Harry without a thought. Harry didn’t seem to mind one bit. Ron shifted away awkwardly as they kissed one another deeply and it was only after Hermione finally cleared her throat that they separated, their hands clasped together as though they would never let go again.

“Ron and I should probably leave you to it, but I’m afraid we can’t leave you two alone. Not really.” She said apologetically and Harry looked crestfallen while Draco nodded. “I’m really, really sorry. I’ll have Ron stand just outside the curtain. It’s the best I can do.”

Ron clapped Draco on the back stiffly and gave him a nod before slipping out of the curtains with Hermione.

Draco turned back to Harry, _actually Harry- It’s really him_ , and gently caressed his jaw. “You have no idea what it was like” he whispered.

Harry nodded, “I can’t imagine. Hermione told me about Nott. How long did it take you-”

“Seconds.” Draco assured him. “I know you, Harry. No one could ever replace you.”

Harry leant forward and they kissed once more, holding on to one another as tightly as they could. Flopping back against the wall, Harry looked at Draco with a serious expression, “you don’t have to tell me anything. I don’t need to know. That is- you can if you want to, but don’t feel like you have to-”

Draco nodded. “Not now, love.”

Harry gave him a sorrowful nod. “I just can’t-”

“Don’t think about it. It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Not by a long shot.” Draco assured him, smoothing his hand down Harry’s chest. “Was it the owl that night?”

Harry nodded, “It _was_ from the Ministry, but they had put the Assistant Undersecretary of Magical Transportation under the Imperius curse. I got there and they stupefied me before I’d even gotten out of the fireplace. I only caught a glimpse of them and that’s the last thing I remember.”

Draco felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck, “Harry, did you tell Hermione all of this?”

Harry looked at him with an anxious expression, “Yeah. She asked for a statement straight off.” Draco cursed softly and Harry put his hand on Draco’s knee, budging up a bit in bed, “Why? Shouldn’t I have?”

 _She knows Nott had a partner._ “It’s fine. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’ll explain later. I promise.” Draco’s voice was comforting and he reminded himself that no matter what happened, seeing Harry there, getting to kiss him again, that was all that mattered.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: This chapter contains fairly graphic descriptions of torture, justification of torture, a lot of blood, and murder.


End file.
